Back on Their Feet
by valeriebean
Summary: The crew and family gathers at the hospital to see Little Zoe through a surgery, but it's everyone else that needs a bit of healing. Reunion fic. Takes place 24 years post-BDM, family drama-- stock up on tissues , Canon pairings
1. A Cry Goes Out

_Author's Note: This story comes after Namesake and Hell in a Handbasket. If you haven't read those first, you'll likely be very confused. If you have read them and just need the two minute summary ..._

_Zoë died while giving birth to her namesake, Little Zoë, who was adopted by Mal and Inara. Little Zoë is now 24. Mal and Inara have two other children: Cole (age 19) and Michael (age 17). Michael is deaf, but is also a reader._

_Simon and Kaylee have 18-year-old twins, Jamie and Genny._

_About 16 years ago, Sky joined the crew as a hired gun. She is your typical Joss-style bad-ass and beautiful woman, and she broke Mal's hand the day he hired her. She and Jayne got married at the behest of Jayne's mother, after Sky became pregnant with their daughter, Emily (now age 10)._

_Other tidbits can be gleaned from the story itself._

*****************************************

PART 1 – A Cry Goes Out

A rock exploded to the left and Michael Reynolds sidled closer to his boss, Berke Addison, and the last of their cover. His father had warned him about taking on this kind of work, and now Michael was starting to realize how much he'd romanticized his childhood on Serenity. His parents, his siblings, his surrogate family – there'd been too much wonderful in his life growing up for him to suspect that the work had nothing to do with it.

The work wasn't terrible, though. Michael loved the gunplay and the way he could politely mess with people who didn't know he was a reader – which included everyone who hadn't grown up with him on Serenity. Michael closed his eyes and listened to the battle around him.

They were outnumbered three to eight. Michael had already taken out two. Berke's knee had been grazed and he was staying down, being more careful about how he took his shots. Jarvis, their mercenary, was on the north ridge, trying to get an angle on the leader so that the others would scatter. Where was Jarvis looking? If Michael could figure that out, he could target his own fire to draw the man out and give Jarvis the shot.

A grenade got tossed into the dell where Michael was hiding, and he lost the luxury of waiting. He dove left, rolled, and fired at his attacker, hitting right between the eyes, and cursed himself for relying too much on his psychic ability and not enough on common sense and survival instincts. Everything was right there in front of him. His enemy was hiding in a lean-to. Switching from pistol to M4, Michael let loose a spray across the front wall, but none penetrated. The thing was solid, though slightly weaker on the left. Michael aimed for the supports.

Before he could fire, the world went gray, then black. His vision blurred and swirled, like he was being pulled into a vortex, and then everything became blindingly bright. Michael gasped, and fell, feeling a sharp pain in his throat as stars exploded behind his eyes. He couldn't scream. He couldn't breathe.

His fist closed around the M4, clinging to the heat of the metal and the solidity of it between his fingers. His whole body went stiff. Knowing he'd been shot, he reached a hand up to his neck to staunch the blood flow, and then concentrated hard to see if he could get a message to River before he blacked out. His calloused fingers were hot and rough against his neck and his skin was slick with sweat, but not blood. There was no pain.

Forcing a deep breath, Michael felt that constricting pressure on his throat again. He saw the white room, and then it faded. Whatever pain had hit him, it was not his own, and he knew that the only ones capable of affecting him this way were other readers or his family. Gathering his wits, Michael forced some mental shields into place, but it felt like throwing sand into a windstorm. He could barely hear the outside world through the turmoil, until Berke's voice penetrated the maelstrom, carried as much by mental force as his panicked hollering.

"Shorty! You hit?" Berke yelled, limping across the rocks, keeping a hand on his own bleeding leg.

Michael lifted his head and checked himself over, testing muscles. Things were quieter now, and the gunfight seemed to have ended. His neck still throbbed painfully.

"This ain't one of them seizures you warned me about?" Berke said, falling to his knees next to Michael and pulling his eyelids open. The light glared and Michael felt his eyeballs going dry.

There were always waves of energy traveling through the psychic plane, and every now and then a tsunami would come. For a reader, it was like having one's soul ripped from one's body, and as a side-effect, the body stopped functioning, to the point of death. Michael had only experienced it twice in his life and Uncle Simon had developed a treatment for it. Michael made a habit of warning his employers and keeping an emergency syringe on hand, because if he went down, he couldn't very well treat himself.

"No," Michael said slowly, pushing up to his elbows and swatting Berke's hand away from his face. He blinked hard, trying to lubricate his eyes. Something had happened and he didn't know what, but now that he wasn't in the middle of a gun battle, it was safe to probe just a little. "No, I … I'm okay."

Berke looked doubtful, but was relieved that Michael was moving and talking. "I know that ain't so," Berke said, as they slowly helped each other to their feet. "We've been running together six months and you have never missed a shot. All the sudden, you shoot wild and land flat on your back, and you're not even hit?! What's going on?"

Michael prayed it wasn't his Mama. He prayed hard. The blinding white pressed in and Michael swooned, but Berke caught him. Michael saw the seal on the door to the place – another clue.

"I have to get to Ariel," he said.

"Why?"

Although being a reader was in principle a marketable skill, it was practically a death sentence if the wrong people knew. Michael smoothed his jacket and checked his guns, searching for a lie. "It's a wave I got. It finally hit me what it meant."

"Seems to have hit you pretty hard," Berke commented.

Michael ignored him and oriented himself, trying to remember the path back to civilization on this world. "I have to get to Ariel, as fast as possible. I can catch a transport –"

"Wait, Shorty!" Berke grabbed his elbow and whipped him around, confused and concerned, but wanting to help. "I'll get you there."

"You have a job to finish."

Berke made a face and wiped his blood-damped hand on his pant leg, then pressed his wound again. "You said you have to get there as fast as possible, and ain't no one can get you there faster than Cadence. A transport from here will take you near a week. We'll have you dropped off by morning and still have plenty of time to finish this job."

Michael's breath caught in his throat, and for the first time since he'd left home, he felt that sense of family that he'd been looking for since his father's crew had disbanded three years ago. "Thank you," he said softly. "I will pay you back."

Berke clapped his back and nodded toward the ship. "Shorty, since you joined my crew, I haven't been shot once – well not to the point of needing someone to carry me home. You can pay me back by coming back to me then your business on Ariel is done."

They set off slowly at first. Berke's knee gave out and Michael caught him easily.

"Come on, boy," Berke grunted, picking up pace. "Let's get you where you need to be."

*~*

Kaylee hummed softly as she packed the jumper for a nice, relaxing vacation. A planet called Athos had recently been terraformed, and she wanted to get their before rumors of its beauty spread too far and it got overrun with tourists. She'd been packed for days, and Simon had finally pulled out his suitcase last night. They'd leave in an hour, as soon as everyone woke up and had breakfast.

River had shown up last night unexpectedly, and Kaylee was putting together some things for her sister-in-law. There was no question as to whether she'd come along, only as to whether she was well enough that they could go at all, and as a career optimist, Kaylee intended to be prepared, packed, and ready.

Kaylee hadn't even heard River come in last night, and she'd nearly screamed when she woke up that morning and seen an intruder lying in her bed. Thankfully she'd caught herself in time, and hadn't woken anyone. River crawling into bed with them was something they had grown accustomed to too long ago. Simon had probably just rolled over in his sleep to hold her. River had a glow about her, and while it was clear she wasn't well, she wasn't unwell enough to have woken them up, and so long as she was sleeping peacefully in Simon's arms, Kaylee had no mind to disturb them.

Now that she had coffee in her, though, Kaylee was mulling over River's sudden appearance. She'd invited River to come with them to Athos weeks ago, but River had declined, so Kaylee knew this wasn't a last minute crash of the vacation. River's last drug cocktail had been working for four years. That was a record – four years of River being lucid, happy, and well. She was working as a pilot on a luxury liner in the core. She had an on-again, off-again relationship with the ship's cook, and was anticipating a proposal. If she was here now, it meant that she felt the meds failing, and no boyfriend seemed to last through that phase of a relationship. Maybe she was hoping the space would help her hold on to him. River crawling into bed … it had been even longer since that had happened. It'd been maybe six or seven years since she'd done that. Poor thing was either crashing hard or scared that she might.

Kaylee heard a creak on the stairs as her husband hobbled down. Simon had walked with a cane since his leg got burnt eight years ago. Once he got warmed up, he could get around without it, but first thing in the morning and anytime there were stairs, he always had it. As he came into the garage, he smiled at her and bit his lip bashfully, like they'd just met and he was falling in love with her all over again. Kaylee smiled back at him and nipped her finger coyly. The look on his face said that he wasn't worried enough about River to post-pone their trip either.

"Genny says the hot springs are to die for," Kaylee said excitedly. "She and Cole were there last week for their honeymoon and she said they nearly canceled the rest of their travel plans just to stay longer."

Simon came up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist, then nuzzled and kissed her neck. He always smelled so clean first thing in the morning, and he was warm as he pressed his body against her. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her pants, and then changed direction, gliding up her torso and pushing up her shirt.

"If you start this now, we'll never make it to the springs," Kaylee giggled, squirming against him. He had her pinned to the hull of the jumper.

"That would be a shame," Simon whispered hotly, breaking contact and heading over to the table to hand her another box to pack. The tease and separation left her wanting.

"I didn't say stop," Kaylee said, reaching for his hand again. He pulled her close, and then lifted her onto the table, sitting her on the edge, and wrapping her legs around him. Kaylee fell against him eagerly, her tongue tracing his lips.

The stairs creaked again as River padded down, light-footed, but wobbly. "Simon."

"Busy," Simon said, not turning his attention away from Kaylee. They eased up a moment, listening and waiting. It had taken awhile Simon to realize that he didn't have to drop everything the moment River called. It made sharing Simon with his sister much easier for Kaylee to deal with. Sometimes they could steal another hour together, other times only a few minutes. There was a subtle change in tone that Simon seemed to recognize when waiting was not an option.

River retreated up the stairs again, her question not pressing enough for her to interrupt the moment. Kaylee smiled and squeezed her legs around Simon's waist, pulling him close and rubbing her body against his. They stopped when they heard River retching.

With a resigned sigh, Simon hugged Kaylee one last time, and the two of them went upstairs to find River. Kaylee was glad to see she'd made it to the toilet and hadn't left a mess. River knelt on the floor of the bathroom, resting her elbows on the rim of the toilet, and cradling her head in both hands. Her short-cropped hair clung to her sweat-soaked skin. Kaylee couldn't tell if she was simply flushed, or if River was crying. Simon knelt next to River, turning her face in his hands so he could get a good look, but she trembled and fell against his shoulder, throwing her arms around his neck. She was crying.

"I'm sorry," she wept miserably.

Closing his eyes, Simon rocked her gently, and brushed his fingers soothingly through her hair. Kaylee leaned over them to fill a cup with water from the sink, and she squatted on the floor, waiting for River to relax enough to take a sip.

"The hemoxalin always works for short term," Simon thought out loud. Hemoxalin was Simon's least favorite drug to give to River, since it was pretty harsh on her organs, but he sometimes used it to smooth a transition from one medicine to the next.

River shook her head and wiped her nose on Simon's shirt. "Detox."

Kaylee bit her lip and covered her mouth with her hand to keep swear words from flying out. Running River through a detox was good for gauging a new drug, but it often meant a month of unpleasantness and close monitoring. So much for the hot springs.

"River, can't it wait a few days," Kaylee asked hopefully.

River's face scrunched wretchedly, and she crawled out of Simon's embrace, pressing her back against the bathtub, and hugging her knees. Wiping the sweat from her face, she looked at Kaylee like she was about to yield, then she cocked her head to the side and didn't say anything. Kaylee and Simon looked at each other in confusion.

"What is it?" Simon asked River, scooting close and caressing her cheek.

River's eyes rolled back into her head.

"I'll get the hemoxalin," Kaylee said and Simon nodded urgently. She froze when River spoke.

"You have to go to Ariel," River said with incredible lucidity. "Something's wrong."

"What's wrong?" Simon pressed.

River looked at him, like it was he who had zoned out and was behaving weirdly. "Michael didn't say. But he called for you. You should go."

Kaylee gasped immediately, connecting the warning to the location of her Serenity family. "Little Zoë was on Ariel. Just last week, she went," Kaylee whispered fearfully as she gripped Simon's shoulder. "You don't think… oh, Simon, you have to go."

*~*

Michael hated hospitals in general, and core hospitals in particular. There was a sterility about core facilities that seemed to suck the life and hope out of a body, making even the most mundane injury seem burdensome. This hospital seemed less white in the lobby area, favoring stainless steel and stone architectures. It created a huge empty void in his heart through which his sister's cries echoed piteously. He wished she could hear him as well as he heard her, and then maybe she'd calm. Soon, he kept telling himself. His chest was tight with effort to keep from losing his mind.

Fervently, he strode to the reception desk, shifting his jacket to keep his guns hidden. He'd stepped off the Cadence without so much as a thought to what he might need to carry, and realized about half a mile later that core people didn't take to unconcealed weapons the way folks on the rim did.

The woman behind the desk did not even glance at him, but Michael sensed her fervently ignoring him, so he felt no shame in barging into her personal space and presenting a picture of Zoë.

"I am looking for this woman," Michael said.

The woman glanced disinterestedly at the picture, and then did a double take. She recognized Zoë and was concerned. "Who are you?"

"I'm her brother."

The woman looked doubtful and Michael didn't blame her. He and Zoë looked about as related as a chameleon and a chinchilla. Family was more than blood, but Michael didn't have time for a lecture with Zoë crying out the way she was.

"Her name is Zoë Washburn," he persisted. "I can connect you to our father and her personal physician and anything else you need. Please, may I see her?"

The woman pressed her lips together, took the capture from Michael, and picked up a handset on the far side of the table. "Harry, we got a hit on the Jane Doe."

*~*

Michael steeled himself as he passed through the hospital corridors, blocking the waves of pain, sadness, and confusion that swept through the halls thicker than the air. They hadn't even known her name! It was no wonder she'd cried out to him. Michael pressed his hand over his heart to stop it from jack-hammering out of his chest and followed the nurse down the hall to Zoë's room. She'd been stabbed in the throat three days ago, and in repairing the damage, the doctor's had seen the cancer.

Tears stung Michael's eyes as he entered the room. Zoë lay on the bed, her body bowed in pain, her eyes squeezed shut. The doctors had been keeping her heavily medicated. The nurse had explained it, but Michael was too anxious to listen properly. As soon as they entered Zoë's room, he went to the bed, and slipped his hand into hers.

The tension in Zoë's body vanished so quickly that the nurse pressed in to check Zoë's vitals. Slowly, Zoë's cold, dry fingers curled into Michael's palm. The screaming stopped and the world became so silent that Michael touched his ear just to make sure his hearing aid was still working. Zoë's jaw quivered and she squeezed his hand, a small smile pressing through the pain crinkling her almond brown eyes.

"I'm here," he whispered. His voice sounded peaceful in the silence as his sister opened her eyes and stared at him. "I found you."

Concentrating hard and looking him in the eye, Zoë thought directly at him. _My neck hurts._

"I'm sure it does," Michael smiled, rubbing warmth into Zoë's fingers. She had a large bandage on her neck and scars peaking over the edge of the bandage across her chin and along her collar bone.

_Wait for the sign,_ she thought. Her fingers were moving clumsily in his hand, signing her words to him. Being face-to-face helped, but he and Zoë weren't great at straight telepathy, and though Michael was pretty sure he was reading her right, he knew the nurse would think it weird for him to carry on a one-sided conversation. He waited patiently for her fingers to stop moving, not even paying attention to what signs she used, because half of them were incomplete.

"Her neck hurts," Michael told the nurse.

"Sir, I know you care very much for your sister, but rest assured, we are giving her the best care," the nurse said diplomatically.

"I'm just the messenger," Michael said defensively, looking more at his sister than the nurse he was conversing with.

"Are you also a mind reader?" the nurse joked and Michael had to wonder at how quickly her tone turned patronizing.

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, indicating Zoë's hand in his. "She signed. I was born deaf. We ..."

He trailed off losing the heart to explain, but the nurse accepted it either way and adjusted the dosage of Zoë's meds. Zoë's fingers were moving again.

_Baba?_

"I just found you, jie jie," he said. When he touched her face, she closed her eyes and nuzzled against him. She'd been so frightened being here alone. "Don't worry. I'll make sure everyone knows."

*~*


	2. Help Rushes In

PART 2 – Help Rushes In

Inara reclined on her porch swing and stared up at the stars, dreaming of the days when she traveled between worlds rather than watching them cross her sky. It was cold for August, and she either wanted her husband to come out here and keep her warm, or she needed to get some hot chocolate and a fleece blanket. She was just about to call out for Mal when the night air filled with a wretched cry and the sound of smashing glass.

Her heart quickening, Inara jumped from her swing and dashed inside. Mal leaned over the sink, his head bowed broodingly as he reigned in the outburst that had sent a collection of teacups crashing to the floor. Tension rippled through him and Inara kept her distance, not wanting to be in his path if he lashed out again.

"Is it Michael?" she whispered fearfully. Since her son had shipped out six months ago, she'd been constantly worried for his safety.

"Zoë," Mal said tersely. "Relapse."

His fists clenched and unclenched, and then he reached out to her. Inara took his hand, but he hooked her into an embrace. Hugging him gently, she waited in silence, wanting to know why the news had rendered her favorite tea cups into shards. Zoë had been fighting cancer since she was five, and had had half a dozen relapses over the years. The news always hit Mal hard, because every time he thought about losing little Zoë, he lost her Momma all over again, but he normally stored the anger for later. Perhaps, being off the job now, the teacups were his only outlet for violence.

"How far has it spread?" Inara asked.

"She said to bring Jayne."

Inara's hand flew to her mouth and her heart sank. Burying her face in both hands, she prayed fervently that things were not as bad as Zoë's request implied.

*~*

Simon's knee ached in protest as he hobbled down the hall to Little Zoë's room as quickly as his feet would take him. He'd known her, loved her, and been her doctor for her entire life. He'd be damned if he outlived her. He carried the hospital's chart and his own records in one hand. As much as he wanted to review them while he walked, he needed his cane right now, else he would tip over for rushing.

When he arrived in Zoë's room, she slept peacefully on the bed, numbed by medicines. Michael squatted in the corner, head tucked, hugging his knees. Simon's concern immediately shifted to the boy, worried that River may be facing greater problems than detoxing from her meds. River's psychosis was related to what the Alliance did to her brain, but when something hit Michael too, Simon knew it was related to the psychic ability, and that required different analyses.

"Michael," Simon called, but Michael didn't look up. Simon set Zoë's charts on the bed and leaned over Michael. His leg was stiff from the trip to Ariel, and he stumbled as he tried to kneel.

Startled, Michael lashed out, knocking Simon sideways and hard. Simon cried out as he lost balance, but Michael caught his elbow and helped him settle to the floor before he fell flat and hit his head. For a moment, they both sat there looking at each other. Simon was trying to catch his breath, and Michael looked for all the worlds like he couldn't believe Simon was actually there.

"Sorry," Simon said bashfully, when the room stopped spinning. "Are you alright?"

Michael cocked his head, and then reached for his ear, switching on his hearing aid. "What?"

"Are you sick?" Simon asked. He scooted closer, trying to get a better look at Michael's face. Michael's eyes were bloodshot, and he had the rumpled, unshaven look and smell of a man who hadn't seen a shower in a few days.

"No. It just gets loud," Michael said finally, rubbing his ear and resisting the tendency to scratch and tear at the skin. Michael was a more sensitive reader than River, and he got overwhelmed fairly easily when he had to distinguish real sounds from read ones. It was why he had chosen to work with a small crew on the rim.

"I thought you were bringing Aunt Kaylee and Aunt River."

"They're upstairs getting a room for River," Simon said, accepting a hand from Michael as he tried to stand.

Michael's jaw tightened in concern. "Is she alright?"

"No worse than normal," Simon dismissed, even if it wasn't exactly true. Michael had enough to worry about without shouldering River's burdens as well.

Michael screwed up his face, but accepted the lie without complaint. He went to Zoë's bedside and took her hand, keeping quiet as Simon opened the two charts and started his evaluation.

"When did you last sleep?" Simon asked Michael, unable to stand there without doctoring (or uncle-ing) a little.

Michael leaned on his elbows and rubbed his cheek against his and Zoë's clasped hands. He turned his head sideways to look at Simon and shrugged. Simon gave the boy a stern look and Michael sighed.

"What day is it?" Michael asked.

"Tuesday," Simon said disapprovingly. It was going to get hectic and crazy in the next few hours as everyone started arriving, and if he weren't rested, Michael would suffer a breakdown. Between Mal and Jayne alone, there would be enough tension to snap Michael like a twig. "Nothing will change here in the next few hours. Why don't you find a quiet spot and get some rest."

Michael sighed hesitantly and looked at his sister, not wanting to leave her side. He could be stubborn, just like his father and Simon decided he'd wait until he had a preliminary diagnosis to give Michael before asking him to leave again. He noticed Michael wincing when he touched Zoë's neck. Could he feel her pain? Before Simon could ask, Michael switched off his hearing aid, returned to the corner, and sat down on the floor, resting his head on his knees again.

*~*

Jayne hadn't been the same since Sky died three years ago. Mal had set him and Emily up in a little house, and he helped as best he could, but mostly Mal stayed out of the way. When he tried to be social, Jayne usually withdrew and looked quietly at his boots. Last week, when he'd come, Jayne had twitched his lips and grunted, which was more acknowledgement than Mal had gotten in years, so at least he knew it was okay to keep trying.

It would have been different if Sky's death hadn't been an accident. Jayne hadn't touched a gun since that day and Mal had taken all his knives when he caught Jayne cutting on himself. They'd put Jayne in a hospital for a short spell, and even now Jayne only ever talked to his daughter, but that was something. Mal had checked out homes on a few different worlds, but when he'd brought Jayne to this one, Jayne went straight to the pond in the back yard and smiled wistfully, so Mal had fought hard to get him this piece of land.

As he came through the front gate, Mal heard the gleeful shouts of laughter in the back yard, so he by-stepped the house and went around back. Jayne stood by the pond, twirling his ten-year-old Emily in circles. A broad smile lit his face and Emily squealed with delight and dizziness as her purple dress flared and her bare feet ripped up the soft grass. Mal hated that his presence alone would render Jayne somber, and he shuddered to think what the news of Zoë would do to the man. He hung back and watched, treasuring the happiness of the moment, not wanting to interrupt.

"Uncle Mal!" Emily squealed when she saw him. Dropping her father's hand, she dashed across the yard toward Mal, her path swaying slightly from residual dizziness. She had Sky's blonde, curly hair, Jayne's chiseled jaw, and all the youthful sweetness of a daddy's girl. She was too big to lift, but that didn't stop her from trying to jump into Mal's arms and hang off his shoulders. He couldn't help but laugh. If she was in such high spirits, Jayne must have been having a good day. Mal looked over at his old friend.

Jayne hung back by the pond. His features were solemn, but he hadn't ducked his head like he usually did. Mal rarely showed up unannounced, and Jayne knew something was wrong. Taking Emily's hand, Mal walked to the pond, because he knew Jayne wouldn't come to him.

"Hello," Mal said politely to Jayne. Emily leaned against Mal, draping his arms over her shoulders and holding his wrists, while swaying foot-to-foot.

"Papa, Uncle Mal is here," she said encouragingly, watching him for a response. Jayne had never wanted to be called Papa. He and Sky had been competing to see whether Emily would say Momma or Daddy first. Then one day they were all sitting at dinner, and as a joke, Jamie suggested Papa, and that's what Emily repeated. It was her first word, and she looked right at her father, reached out, and said 'Papa.' There was no going back.

Jayne picked at his fingernails and turned to face the water. Little Emily ducked her head sadly, because as accustomed as she'd become to seeing her father like this, it still hurt her heart. Mal hugged her lightly and patted her head.

"I need you to come with me to Ariel," Mal said, getting right to the point.

Jayne nodded minutely. Truthfully, Mal hadn't expected that much of a response.

"There's a transport that leaves in an hour. The next one doesn't go 'til tomorrow. I ain't waitin' and I ain't leaving without you."

Jayne nodded again. His forehead creased and he moved his jaw side-to-side, like he wanted to speak, but couldn't. "Who?" he asked quietly.

"Zoë."

Jayne's jaw quivered and his fingers curled into a fist. Jayne had seen Mal through every one of Little Zoë's relapses, and Mal had never realized how much he'd come to depend on that strength. When things got darkest, Mal would remember Zoë's momma, and he'd be in Serenity Valley all over again. Jayne had never waited for him to come out of it on his own.

"Simon's already there, so I'm hoping …" he trailed off. Mal didn't know what he was hoping. If it was her time to leave this world then he was hoping to get there in time to say good-bye, but what he was really hoping was that this was all a giant mistake or an elaborate, sadistic rouse for a surprise party. He'd done worse to Simon.

"Pack light."

Inhaling deeply and squaring his shoulders, Jayne lifted his head just enough to see his daughter. "Emily, go inside and get your green jacket, your walking boots, and one toy."

"The green jacket? Papa," Emily whined.

"It's cold on Ariel," Jayne said, placing a hand on her shoulders and turning her toward the house. "Now go before I change my mind about the toy."

He waited for her to go inside, and then paced three steps upstream, moved a rock, and pulled on a handle in the ground. The earth dislodged, and a small door opened, revealing a hidden, weather-sealed storage area. Inside was a medium-sized duffle. It didn't seem odd that Jayne had a bag packed and was ready to leave at a moment's notice. With a past like his, one could never be too careful. There was a gun in there too, buy Jayne left it behind. He shouldered the duffle, closed the door, kicked the grass and dirt back into place, and then turned toward Mal. Jayne was looking right at him, blue eyes glistening, grim but determined, sad but strong. It was just for a moment, and then Jayne was looking at his boots again.

*~*

Zoë was worse than Simon had anticipated. She'd suffered severe blood loss when she'd been attacked, and had bruises on several internal organs, but worse than that, the cancer had returned after almost ten years of being in remission, and it was everywhere – throat, lungs, spine. He had a meeting with the lead surgeon who had spent days mapping out the extent of the cancer and how best to get it out. They were waiting for Zoë's body to recover from her initial injury before proceeding, but given the rate the cancer was spreading, every hour seemed crucial.

"Dad!"

Startle, Simon swore and jumped, agitating his knee. His son, Jamie, had arrived from Osiris where he'd been attending medical school at Simon's alma matter.

"How is Zoë?" Jamie asked, catching up to Simon. He was dressed the part of a well-bred, well-moneyed, core elitist, except for the bright orange flip flops.

"Her surgery is tomorrow morning," Simon said, then pointed dismissively in the direction of Zoë's room. "I have to go."

Simon walked away, but Jamie kept pace.

"I'd like to assist," Jamie pressed.

"No."

"Zao gao! But Dad –"

Simon held up a hand to silence the protest. Jamie had three inches on him, but at least he respected authority. "You're not a doctor yet. You're a med student."

Jamie scrunched his nose angrily, paced in a circle, then trotted to catch up with Simon again. "Gou shi! I have been assisting you with surgeries since I was ten years old! I know Zoë's chart backward and forward. I can quote her record from rote memory. There is no zhen ta ma de medic better qualified to assist."

It was true – Jamie had been helping Simon in Serenity's infirmary ever since Simon had injured his leg and he knew as much as Simon could teach him about medicine. Simon had been expecting Jamie's request (and the accompanying blue streak of swear words), but he couldn't have this conversation now. He was holding too much in the tip of his mind, preparing to meet the chief surgeon.

"This is not a rim clinic; this is a core hospital," he said patiently. "A medical degree makes a difference. That's why you're in school."

Jamie bit back further protests as they reached the door to the surgeon's office and Simon stopped walking.

"You could at least ask," Jamie said quietly. He cursed when he argued, but never when he begged. "I know if you vouch for me…"

"I'll ask," Simon agreed, knocking on the door. He heard someone shout 'just a minute,' and so he turned back to his son and forced himself to take a breath. Jamie was a mystery, a miracle, and a wonder to Simon. Never in a million years would he have guessed Jamie would follow him into medicine, but once the boy had taken it into his head, he went at it with all the force of a freight train and there was no stopping him.

"How are classes?" Simon asked. "What are you missing today?"

"I'm not in classes," Jamie sighed, boredly.

"Shen me?"

"I tested out at the beginning of the semester," Jamie explained. Sometimes, Simon wondered if Jamie might be smarter than River, at least in some things. Here Jamie was, poised to start the promising career that Simon had abandoned almost twenty-five years ago. He was learning about new medicines, new technologies, and new treatments. Simon was looking forward to the day when Jamie finished his training and he would finally have a second medical opinion with regard to River… and Michael, for that matter. One couldn't just bring cases like that into a hospital and ask for a consult.

"This month I'm on oncology rotation," Jamie said bitterly. "Ironic."

They looked at each other, sharing grief in that quiet, reserved way they both had, and then Simon hooked his hand around the back of Jamie's neck and pulled his son into a hug. Rising on tip toes so he wouldn't get smothered in Jamie's jacket, he complained, "It's not fair that you're taller than me."

*~*

Inara had lunch with Emily at least once a week, but she rarely saw Emily and Jayne together. Jayne seemed to make progress quietly and in private, and whenever she came by to check on him, he just stopped everything and waited for her to leave again. Sometimes Inara wondered if Emily was lying about her home life so that she could keep her father with her, but seeing the two of them together now alleviated that fear.

They had caught a transport from Deadwood to Ariel and appropriated a cramped but private cabin for themselves. There was a picture window on the outside wall and an L-shaped bench that constituted two beds. Above one of the bench seats was a third fold-out bed. The cabin was designed to fit three average sized peasants, not two giants and two women.

Jayne had claimed the bench/bed underneath the window for himself and he'd played cards with Emily most of the afternoon, looking like he was a whole person, not broken at all. Mal and Inara had walked the ship hand-in-hand for a few hours, and Inara remembered the days when they did this on Serenity. She missed the freedom of being space-born, but they simply couldn't maintain their own ship anymore.

When they returned from their walk, Jayne was sleeping on his bench seat and Emily was on the top fold-out bunk reading a book. Mal slouched into the lower bunk, leaning against the wall with one knee peaked, making a space for Inara to nestle between his legs. She reclined comfortably against him, staring wistfully out the picture window. She could see out now that Jayne was lying down. Mal's breathing slowed as he dozed off and Inara wondered how he could sleep given the circumstances.

Restless, Inara carefully disentangled herself from Mal's embrace, and peeked over the top bunk to see if Emily was still awake and in the mood for a walk. The girl lay on her side, holding her book but not reading it. She wiped her face quickly to hide the tears in her eyes, but Inara ignored them graciously.

"Do you want to take a walk, sweetie?" Inara asked.

Emily shook her head and tried to read her book, but when she blinked, a tear escaped. "Auntie 'Nara, is something wrong with Papa?"

"What makes you say that?"

Jayne seemed fine to her, but if anything were wrong, Emily would be the first to notice. She quickly turned her attention to Jayne and Emily hopped off the bed to stand beside her, taking her hand. Leaning over, she checked that Jayne was breathing and that he didn't have any unnatural-looking marks on his skin. He looked like he was sleeping peaceful.

"Uncle Mal said we were going to a hospital," Emily said soulfully, leaning her head on Inara's arm, and immediately Inara understood. The last time Mal had taken Jayne to a hospital, it was to have him committed to the psych ward for three weeks, and they'd had to pull Emily off of him kicking and screaming.

"Do we have to go?" Emily asked, her eyes welling with tears. "Papa's been good. I promise."

"Oh, sweetie," Inara said, squeezing the girl across the shoulders. "No one's told you anything have they? We're not going for your father. We're going for my daughter, Zoë. You remember Zoë, right?"

Emily nodded, but did not look comforted. "Is she gonna die?"

"I hope not," Inara said. She could offer no stronger assurance than that, no matter how much she wanted. Emily saw the uncertainty in Inara's eyes, and she started crying.

"What if…" she choked on the words and buried her face in Inara's chest. "It's not fair. It took so long to get him better. If Zoë dies ... I don't want to lose him again!"

Emily could barely get the words out as fear and grief overwhelmed her. Inara closed her eyes and embraced Emily, whispering a prayer for Emily that she'd composed when the girl first lost her mother. Emily knew the words by heart, but she was sobbing too much to say them. Inara held her until her cries woke the men, and she felt Jayne's hand on her shoulder. Tapping Emily on the elbow, Jayne opened his arms to his little girl and she threw her arms around her Papa, weeping bitterly.

"Hey, baby girl," he soothed and shushed, rocking her gently as the sobs shook her whole body.

"Don't leave me, Papa!"

"Never again," Jayne said surely, kissing the top of her head and holding her tight. "I promised."

Inara closed her eyes and cried, as much for the fear of losing her daughter as for the joy of watching Jayne reclaim his. Mal touched Inara's hand and nodded toward the door, but Inara was too distraught to be in public. She fell into Mal's embrace and heard him whisper a short prayer to his own God – something he hadn't done since the last time they were heading to a hospital.

"I want Momma back," Emily wailed and Inara felt her heart bleeding and she prayed that Jayne wouldn't lose his mind.

"Me too, baby," Jayne whispered, choking on tears of his own. Then he sucked in his grief and cleared his throat. "Did I ever tell you about the time your Momma and me were stranded in that vineyard on Greenleaf?"

Jayne had always been a story-teller to the kids on Serenity. Inara had never heard him tell a story about Sky, but it gave her hope to know he did it for Emily.

*~*

Mal's mind was racing as they dashed from the port to the hospital. Little Zoë's life was flashing before his eyes, and if anyone was telling him to slow down, he didn't hear it. The only peace to be had was in his head, and in the memories of watching his kids grow up.

As they came into the hospital, Mal immediately homed in on Jamie Tam, dressed in scrubs, standing to greet them. He vaguely felt the hospital receptionist as he plowed over her to get closer to Jamie. He was glad the boy was here and ready to work. Two Tams were better than one.

Jamie was a genius. He'd only been a month in medical school when he'd heard about some experimental treatment and called Mal to Osiris. Within three days of treatment, the arthritis that had plagued Mal's hand for years was completely cured. Mal was so excited about using his fingers again that he took up the piano. He wasn't any good at it, but that didn't stop him from trying to play along when Inara pulled out her harp.

Emily ran excitedly to Jamie, nearly tackling him in a bear hug. Mal was glad to see it because the girl had been moody all morning.

"Hey, look at you!" Jamie smiled, pinching her cheek and giving her a brief hug. Then he looked to Mal and Inara. He cringed when he saw Jayne, but masked it well, adopting that cool, unfeeling doctor-tone that he'd learned from Simno.

"Zoë is this way." Jamie led the way through the corridor, up three flights of stairs, and through another maze of corridors until Mal finally stopped paying attention. "The other doctors are scrubbing in. I'm supposed to walk her to the O.R. in –" Jamie paused to check his watch, "15 minutes."

"Can she talk?" Mal asked. From the report he'd heard she'd been pretty brutally attacked, and she'd killed her attacker.

"They repaired the damage to her vocal cords, but it might be awhile before she can use them," Jamie said somberly. There was an unspoken 'assuming she survives that long' in his tone. Jamie hadn't been an optimist since Sky died on his watch. Mal and everyone else had given up telling him he wasn't to blame.

"Where's Michael?" Inara asked.

Jamie shook his head. "Getting some air."

They turned into the room, and there lay Zoë. She was unconscious already, with a mask over her face, an IV in her arm, and a bandage on her neck. Mal went to her side, his feet feeling like lead, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach and churning up fear. He touched her hand and her face. He wasn't sure if he was speaking, because his ears had stopped hearing at some point. All he saw was his little girl, lying so powerless that she couldn't even ask for help. She held in her being the memory of his best friend and the promise of hope. She was the reason Inara had stayed, and thus the foundation on which all his present happiness had been built. She was his life, his heart, and his precious child.

Mal felt a hand on his shoulder and he shuddered and gasped.

"Zoë," he choked, calling to the ghost of his best friend as much as his dying daughter. He always felt the rain beating down his back and the warm brown coat on his shoulders. The skies cried out for Zoë, and the 'verse never stopped mourning her loss. He'd held back the tears up 'til now, but there didn't seem much point anymore. If he held his grief inside much longer, he'd drown in the sorrow.

"Uncle Mal," Jamie said softly. "It's time."

Grief receded, forming a lump in Mal's throat and a knot in his belly. His face was damp, his breath raggedy, and his head aching. He stepped back, nearly falling on Inara. Had she been clinging to his arm this whole time? He gripped her tightly, holding on for dear life as they watched their little Zoë wheeled away.

"Wait," Emily cried out, looking from Jayne to Jamie. "Will she be okay?"

Jamie pressed his lips together, not wanting to make any promises he couldn't keep. Finally, he said, "I'll be with her the whole time."

*~*


	3. Rejected and Forgotton

PART 3 – Rejected and Forgotten

Mal hated waiting. Jayne could stand there, still as a statue, staring out the observation window watching the surgery, but Mal couldn't stay still. Were it old times, Jayne would be just as restless as him, and they'd be finding something that needed doing, even if it was just re-lacing their boots. Everything was broken, now that he'd lost Serenity. His family had scattered. Jayne hardly looked at him. Inara stayed by his side, but all she ever did was look at the sky and dream about going back. They'd all come together a few weeks ago for Cole's wedding. It didn't matter that most of them had never been to Sihnon before. Just the fact that they were all there made it home.

Mal had paced the common areas from the cafeteria to the waiting room to the observation lounge. Michael was around here somewhere. Inara suggested he might be on the third floor visiting River, and the simple option of a different path to walk was sufficient motivation to look. It wasn't until he poked his head through the door and looked with his own eyes that his neurons fired sharply enough to realize something was wrong with his little Albatross.

River slept peacefully in the bed, though all the sheets and blankets were kicked off and tangled below her knees. Kaylee sat in a stiff folding chair by the window, and she smiled tiredly when she saw him.

"Hey, Cap'n," she greeted. When Kaylee smiled, the worlds smiled with her. Mal felt his heart lighten half a kilo just anticipating the sweet kiss on the cheek he'd get if he leaned his face close enough.

"I'm not a Captain anymore," he said, though he knew getting Kaylee to stop calling him 'Captain' would be as impossible as getting Zoë to stop calling him 'sir.'

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Kaylee said, hugging him hard and not letting go.

"They surely do, mei mei. I was lookin' for Michael and I heard my little Albatross had a broken wing."

"Yeah," Kaylee sighed. "The Alliance nicks you once and you bleed the rest of your life, I guess."

"Hey, now. Wait 'til your old like me. Then you can be bitter."

"If you keep getting' older, I'll never catch up," Kaylee joked.

Mal raised his eyebrow craftily. "All part of my plan."

Kaylee stepped around him, reaching for a bowl of water by River's bedside, and dabbing River's face with a damp rag.

"Didn't have time to suss out what happened before we got the call," Kaylee said quietly. "Zoë is the only thing she talks clearly on."

Mal touched River's face tenderly, then ghosted his hand over her heart, and rested instinctively on her belly. River's stomach contracted minutely under his hand. She'd always been ticklish. Mal looked at his hand, then at River's flushed face again. It was silly to think River might be pregnant. The first time she had a serious boyfriend, she'd talked to Simon about mixing birth control in with her other meds. When Simon told her she was sterile, she'd cried for two weeks straight. After that, she'd composed herself enough to do chores, but Mal had still found her on occasion curled up in the cargo hold crying her eyes out. It was the only time in her life that he let her call him 'daddy' without correcting her.

He'd deny it if anyone said, but she'd been one of his from the moment he kicked open that cryo-box in the cargo bay. He showed it to the 'verse that day in Maidenhead when he scooped her up and carried her home, even though all reason and sense told him to leave her behind. He'd never quite figured out why she called him daddy, and she only ever did it in her cryptic, crazy-talk, double-speak. He didn't mind taking her in as his own. It wasn't like she and Simon could ever go home. No matter what the Alliance said or what exoneration papers they found, there was no way they could go back, and from what Simon said, their parents wouldn't have them either way. Mal couldn't fathom disowning his kid like that, but the rich had their own stupid ways, and he admired the hell out of Simon for rising above that kind of upbringing.

"Has the surgery started?" Kaylee asked him.

"A little while ago."

River stirred, but resettled when Mal pulled his hands away. River was a handful when she was both sick and awake, so it was best to let her sleep.

"Cole and Genny should be here in another hour," Kaylee said. "It's sad Cole didn't get to see Zoë."

"He'll understand," Mal shrugged. "They shouldn't have held her out for us."

Kaylee sat by the window and looked away from him, the way she always did when he was being insensitive. "Understanding don't make it right."

"Have you seen Michael?" Mal suddenly felt trapped in the little room and he shifted foot-to-foot.

"He's been out walking since he woke up," Kaylee answered. Kaylee always seemed to know everything about everyone, like she'd put trackers on them. Every now and then, Mal got gripped by paranoia and checked himself with a scanner to see if he could find one. "There's a nice foot-path around the hospital campus. You can try chasing him if you got the wind in you, but I think it's easier to sit by the rose garden and wait for him to come 'round."

Mal remembered the rose garden, because Emily had run over to smell the flowers before they'd come inside. He didn't think he could get quiet enough in his head to talk to Michael, but the boy seemed to have the right idea – pacing circles around the grounds.

*~*

Kaylee rubbed her eyes as she headed out of River's room toward the hospital lobby. She figured someone should be down there when Cole and Genny arrived, because getting any information out of the reception staff as like pulling teeth out of a shark. She already felt drained. Every person that came, came with some bit of brokenness that never would've fractured so badly if they'd been able to stay on Serenity. It was like they never realized that family was the glue holding their broken bits together or that sending a wave every once in awhile would seal some of the cracks. She blamed herself for not being able to fix the ship, but after Sky died and Jayne cracked, they couldn't pull jobs with big takes anymore, couldn't feed four teenagers on top of it, and couldn't afford to replace the parts that were wearing to dust.

All that was left of the ship was Inara's shuttle. It hadn't been her shuttle in years, but Kaylee still thought of it that way. Inara had it hidden away some place Mal didn't know about, and she'd take it out every now and again and send Kaylee a wave while skimming the atmosphere, catching a glimpse of the stars. Kaylee made sure someone kept it in good repair, but the shuttle wasn't meant to be without the ship. A part of Kaylee wondered if the Captain knew about the shuttle, and just kept quiet for Inara's sake. Maybe the Captain had shuttle two hidden away some place. The Captain had always been restless on land. Serenity was the only place he found calm enough to stand still and just be. With the life they led, no one would've guessed he'd out-live the ship… or Little Zoë.

Kaylee stood by the front door of the hospital, looking out. Mal and Inara passed, walking hand-in-hand, and Michael crossed a few minutes later, going fast enough that he was surely lapping them. The whole lot of them must've been born with thrusters on their feet – always moving. Cole was different. As soon as he set foot on land, he got this healthy glow about him, like he'd been space sick his whole life, and his stomach had finally settled. He'd planted himself on Sihnon in Inara's parents' guest house, and had no intention of leaving.

Kaylee saw them coming from two blocks away. Cole's eyes were downcast and his jaw set, and Genny led him by the hand. Those two had been best friends since before they could talk, and when they'd first gotten together, Kaylee worried they hadn't seen enough of the worlds to know what they were committing to. They were committed, though. Kaylee had no doubts about that.

"It's good to see you," Kaylee greeted, hugging her daughter, and then her son-in-law. Cole held on a little longer, absorbing comfort from the embrace.

"Where is everyone?" Cole asked.

Kaylee shrugged apologetically. "In and out. I was heading for the observation room to watch the surgery."

"Sounds like a plan," Genny said, though she looked ready to start running laps with Michael. "How is Zoë?"

"She'll be fine," Kaylee assured.

"Is that dad's diagnosis or Jamie's?" Genny challenged.

Kaylee sighed. Both Simon and Jamie had been cautious about promising any kind of positive outcome, but Kaylee had to hope. Someone did.

"We've been living on miracles our whole lives," Cole spoke up, folding his arms across his chest to keep his emotions from falling out. "No sense stopping now."

Kaylee closed her eyes and smiled to herself, feeling her strength renewed. It was the first time someone besides her had expressed hope for Zoë without reservation.

*~*

Jayne wasn't watching the surgery, but standing next to the window and staring kept him from having to talk to anyone, so he kept at it. He was thinking about his wife again. He thought about her all the time. Emily was just like her, and when his daughter looked at him, it felt like Sky was alive again, standing next to him, beaming proudly at their little one.

When she knew she was dying, she'd pulled him close and reminded him, "I was supposed to die when Emily was born, and you know it." It was possible, she was meant to die before that, but she'd beat death off with a stick. She fought for every day and she laughed in the face of death. She'd nearly died when Emily was born, but then, when Emily laughed, and a miracle occurred. They had a few more charmed years, living strong and healthy. When a mercenary retires, it's either because he's been injured too much to fight or he's dead. A few years together was all either of them expected going in. He thought sure he'd cleaned that gun. He was meticulous about maintaining his equipment; they both were. Somehow, it misfired. Somehow, it killed her. Somehow, the worlds kept spinning, like they didn't even notice her gone.

He'd catch himself sometimes, standing by the pond, talking to her like she was still alive. He laughed with her and told her stories of days gone by. It always fell apart though, when she didn't answer back. Any feat he'd mastered, she had one better, and he'd lost the challenge of living up to her standards. He tried not to talk about it – tried to look like he was moving on. He didn't want Mal to have cause to lock him away again. Emily needed him. But then, not talking about Sky left him with a whole lot of nothing to say to anyone.

Jayne heard Genny and Cole enter with Kaylee. He looked over at Cole, and nodded a hello, that probably didn't look like more than a blink to the girls. It nearly sent the tears in his eyes spilling over, but he tilted his head to the ceiling, and they didn't fall. Cole called him every week, and Jayne always made sure he was there to answer, because Cole was the only one who called for his own self and not to check up on him. Most times, they didn't even talk. They just left the channel open and made sandwiches or some such, and then they'd sit down and eat. It was like having lunch together, even though they were a million miles away.

Emily bumped Jayne, jostling him back to the present chaos that had suddenly erupted in the room. His daughter ducked under his arm, pressing herself between him and the wall, and she looked around his elbow. Genny chased her, but Emily squealed and ducked out of reach again.

"Ke wu de e mo!" Emily screeched, pulling Jayne in front of her like a shield.

"Come on, mei mei," Genny whined. "I thought we were past this. You can't stay mad at me forever."

Genny was there the day Jayne had been committed to the psych ward. She was the one holding on to Emily as Emily screamed for him to come back. Turning quickly, Emily pushed Genny away and cocked her fist, but Genny was twice her size and accustomed to wrestling with the boys. With an irritated grunt, Jayne grabbed both girls by the collar and held them apart.

"Leave her be," he growled at Genny.

The girl stared at him in surprise, but there was no guilt in eyes from being chastised. She blinked a couple of times, then finally murmured, "Sorry, Uncle Jayne."

He gave her one final warning glare, then released her, and turned to Emily. "And you, doll face. I already told you we're here for Zoë. Ain't no one came here to take you from me. Dong ma?"

Emily looked away from him, but he grabbed her chin and forced their eyes to meet. She was scared, hurt, confused, and probably a million other things, but right now she looked angry at being publicly reprimanded. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and a defiant look on her face saying she wasn't as weak as the tears belied. Finally, she jutted out her chin and nodded that she understood, and then wiped her face sharply with the backs of her hands. Jayne hooked his hand around her head and pulled her into a rough hug. She heaved a brooding sigh, but sank into the embrace and patted him tentatively.

"You hungry?" he asked her.

Emily shrugged noncommittally, but Jayne recognized it as a yes.

"Let's walk."

*~*

Mal held Inara's hand as they walked through the gardens at the perimeter of the hospital. He hadn't always been able to hold her hand, but he'd always been able to walk beside her. Even back when they bickered constantly and threw insults at each other, they had always found peace when they were walking about town, shooting the breeze. Walking seemed to keep Mal's foot out of his mouth and any wrong words that slipped out got left on the road behind them.

Michael was doing a fair job trampling the path at the moment. He'd slowed down long enough to say hello, but he was young and needed to walk a little faster to outrun his worries. Inara held onto the boy until he started tugging at his ear, and Mal knew they'd only hurt him more by making him stay with them. Michael read his Mama clearer than his own thoughts, and despite the brave face, Inara was breaking inside.

"It doesn't matter how many times we go through this. Her life always flashes before my eyes," Inara said softly. Mal squeezed her hands to stop them from shaking. This was Zoë's sixth relapse.

"I think it's harder this time, because she doesn't think she's going to make it. She gave this to Michael to give to me."

Inara held up the mother's ring that Mal had made ages ago. He'd made it for Inara, but given it to Zoë, because Zoë always seemed to be forgetting she was part of this family. To pass it on … Mal shuddered and covered his face with his hand, forcing himself to breathe.

"Just hold it so it doesn't get lost," Mal said, taking the ring and sliding it onto Inara's finger next to her wedding band.

"I remember when she was learning to walk," Inara said. "She'd make us walk in circles for hours holding her hands up."

Mal smiled through the tears, the joy of the memory temporarily overshadowing the fears of the present. "Remember when she learned to count and River tried to teach her hide-n-seek. She got to a hundred and just kept going because she thought the counting was more fun."

He felt the healing in his heart. The Alliance thought they'd killed him. They thought they'd beat him to nothing, and they left him to wander the 'verse as a ghost. All he'd tried, taking up crime and defying them at every opportunity, hadn't made him more than a mosquito to them. His greatest victory wasn't in bringing them down, but in proving them wrong – in having a family that taught him to live again. His victory was that he'd come back to life.

"When she was eight, she saw this pair of shoes she wanted, but it was a rough month and we couldn't afford a frivolous pair of shoes," Inara said. "I nearly pawned the bracelet I was wearing so that I could buy them, but she looked at me thoughtfully and said 'Baba would never let me get those shoes. I'm getting a job so I can buy my own shoes.'"

Inara half-laughed, half-sobbed, and she stopped walking. Mal wrapped his arms around Inara and she trembled, not wanting to cry.

"That's when she started charging us for baby-sitting isn't it?" Mal asked and Inara nodded. Mal had never realized there was a reason Little Zoë wanted an allowance, but that girl, like her Mama 'Nara, had an unhealthy love of shoes.

"The first thing she got were those red slippers," Mal remembered. "Completely impractical, but it was her own money and she wore them into the ground. I think she still carries a piece of 'em in that satchel of hers."

He swayed with Inara in his arms and they remembered Little Zoë running around wearing those red, sequined slippers. Mal had seen the occasional blister, but Little Zoë never complained. He blamed Inara and her collection of completely impractical footwear. Out of curiosity, he looked down at Inara's shoes. They were navy blue and gold, matching the dress she had on, with a low heel and no back. A part of him wondered how many shoes she'd packed, because he knew she wouldn't have been wearing them with the outfit she had on yesterday.

Inara caught him contemplating, chuckled lightly, then tugged his hand to start their walking again.

"She named Cole," Inara started again. "I didn't want to name him Cole, but I felt so guilty about her getting left at home."

"What did you want to name him?" Mal asked. Talking about baby names was something they'd missed out on, since Zoë and Inara had been planet-side the last few months of the pregnancy when Zoë had her first relapse.

Inara shrugged and shook her head. "I couldn't say no to her."

"I thought it was a perfect name," Mal said with a smile. "She told me, and I quote, 'I named him Cole because he has dark hair like Mama 'Nara.'"

"Is that how she picked the name?" Inara laughed, her eyes shining now that she recognized the dimension and beauty of it, then she stopped dead in her tracks. "Gou shi, what time is it?"

Mal shrugged.

"I wanted to surprise Cole at the space port, and now I've missed him."

*~*


	4. Need to Connect

PART 4 – Need to connect

The air was chilly, but it carried the mouth-watering smell of fresh baked bread, and Kaylee knew why Jayne and Emily had walked so far to get here. Jayne wouldn't be so quiet if the Captain smacked him upside the head more often, but apparently that wasn't happening. She'd debated with herself before following Jayne out, trying to decide if this was the time, but she didn't see any reason to let this isolationism go on. At Genny and Cole's wedding, she'd let Jayne be, because Simon kept telling her it was enough that he'd shown up. But they weren't gathered today for a happy occasion, and she didn't see how speaking her mind could make things any worse.

Jayne and Emily sat at a small table by the window eating their sandwiches. Emily looked a little more relaxed now that they'd left the hospital, but Jayne always looked sickly to Kaylee these days. He'd dropped so much weight since Sky died – it was one of the reasons Mal put him in the hospital.

Kaylee walked in, ordered herself a sandwich, and went over to their table. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure!" Emily smiled at her, and then jumped up to grab a chair. Jayne smiled as he watched Emily, but didn't lift his eyes to look at Kaylee. She touched his arm, but he flinched and pulled back. That was as far as Kaylee got before Emily came back to the table. The girl was lively and spirited, and she went on for ten minutes about some laser site that she'd seen in a shop window on the way here. Kaylee got lost in the chatter and ten minutes turned to thirty before she knew it. Emily had grown so much, and she was at that age where she really needed a mother. Little Zoë had had Kaylee, Inara, River, and Sky all coming 'round her and taking up the mantle, but Emily didn't have that. She had Inara and Mal looking in on her from time-to-time and her father hanging on by a thread. After all those years Jayne had been there for her and her kids, Kaylee suddenly felt like it was her letting him down by not staying close enough to help raise Emily.

The conversation lulled as Emily looked at her empty plate. Jayne was still picking slowly through his food.

"Papa, can I go to the chocolate shop?" Emily asked, boldly and directly.

"Yeah," Jayne said easily, reaching into his pocket for a wad of cash. "Get enough to share."

"Thanks, Papa."

"And nothing with mint!" Jayne called after her. Sky always used to say that mint with chocolate was unnatural. Jayne watched Emily go, smiled briefly at Kaylee, then remembered he didn't want to be doing that and took a large gulp from his drink.

"Are you gonna talk to anyone besides Emily?" Kaylee challenged, a little more irritably than she meant to. Jayne ignored her. "I know you think she's all you got left, but it ain't so. Little Zoë – you've always been like a second father to her. She was so jealous when Emily was born."

Kaylee waited. Jayne sighed and peeked at her apologetically.

"My kids, too, were always looking up to you. They miss hearing from you. We see you talking to Emily and we're glad you've still got some bit of happiness in your life," Kaylee bit her lip and gathered her nerves so she could say what needed saying. "I gotta admit that I'm selfish about this and I'm waitin' for my turn. When are you gonna talk to me again, Jayne? When are you gonna say my name?"

She looked hard at him, tears stinging in her eyes, and he looked back. His eyes seemed so hollow and lost, and when he stood up from the table, Kaylee slumped in defeat. She buried her face in her hands and cried into her food until she felt a nudge on her shoulder. Silently, Jayne sat down across from her again, and handed her a pile of napkins. The offering completely undid her. They sat quietly, him watching her cry, and when she found her voice, she spoke again.

"Jamie keeps getting taller," she said with a half-hearted chuckle. "He gets that from you, I think. That and the swearing."

Jayne huffed and his lips curled into a rue smile. Jamie cussed twice as much as Jayne, and he was creative about it too. Wash used to be the same way. If he was of a mind to, Wash could swear every other sentence for a week and never repeat a curse, and Wash was not a laconic man, so that was saying a lot. Jayne used to deflect responsibility for Jamie's mouth by saying Wash's ghost had possessed the boy. Kaylee put her hand on Jayne's arm, and this time he didn't pull away.

"Won't you say something?" Kaylee begged.

Jayne looked away from her, to the walls, to the ceiling, and out the window, like he was searching in a pool of hurt for any piece of his heart that wasn't shredded. Just when Kaylee had given up, his voice surfaced.

"Li'l Kaylee." He stopped a moment, unable to choke out anything else. His eyes were dry, but only because he'd run out of tears early that morning. His chin quivered and he closed his hand over Kaylee's.

"All I think about is her."

Kaylee's breath quickened. Overwhelmed by both joy and sadness, she squeezed his hand. "So talk about her. Do you think no one wants to listen?"

Jayne sat there a moment, breaking the toothpick on his plate into tiny little pieces, then his face twisted and his lips screwed up and he covered his face with his one hand, all the while keeping the other hand clenched around Kaylee's so tightly she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.

"Papa?" Emily said softly, looking horrified as she came back to the table with her box of chocolates. She ran to Jayne's side, and pressed his face to her chest, keeping him in a protective embrace. The tension in Jayne's face melted quickly as he forced the hurt into hiding for his daughter's sake.

"I'm okay, bao bao," Jayne assured, wrapping his arms around Emily. "We were just talking about Momma."

Kaylee ducked her head shamefully away from Emily's accusing glare, but then Jayne reached out and slid the pile of napkins in front of her again and squeezed her hand, and she knew he saw her. For now, that was enough.

*~*

It was a quiet closet, and Cole wasn't supposed to be in it, but he wanted to be alone and he had too much family walking through the hospital to sit any place conventional. The cement floor was cold and smooth and the walls were lined with shelves and cleaning supplies, so there was nowhere to lean. The window in the back suggested that this room was an office converted for storage, and the setting sun cast an orange glow on the room, though it was nearly lost by the harsh white lights.

He expected Genny to come find him eventually, but she was catching up with her mom now. Genny had always been close with her mom, and Cole was jealous of that. He'd never felt close to his parents. They didn't worry after him the way they worried after Zoë and Michael. They didn't have to. He was healthy. He could take care of himself. His ailments were the typical little boy ailments – a concussion or a broken bone – and usually it was Uncle Jayne that checked him first or it were really serious, Genny would get her dad to patch him up. Cole knew his parents loved him, he just wished …

Even now, it seemed he was here as part of the check-list. It hurt sometimes, to be the last one anyone saw. He loved his sister dearly, but when she opened her eyes, he wouldn't be the first person she reached out for. And if she never opened her eyes again, he'd missed his chance to say good-bye. They couldn't hold off the surgery for one more hour for him to get there. Sure, that hour could mean life or death for Zoë, but that didn't stop it from hurting. He understood. He always understood.

A tear rolled down Cole's cheek, but he sniffed and wiped it away. If it were only Zoë the tears were for, he'd have let them fall, but he knew he was wallowing over something he'd cried about enough times in his life, and he told himself he wasn't going to let this hurt him anymore. It was enough that Genny loved him and that Uncle Jayne still talked to him, even though he hardly looked at anyone else. And his family loved him in their own way, even if they didn't show it like he wanted. If it were him on the table and not Zoë, he knew they'd all still be here. But he wondered if they'd all be wishing that they new him a little better or if they thought they knew everything already.

Cole wiped his nose with the back of his hand and reached for a role of paper towels from the shelf so he could dry his face. The paper was coarse, and irritatingly unabsorbent. He took a deep breath, dried his soul of tears, and thought about finding a real chair to sit on before his butt went completely numb. He was surprised to hear the door open, and he turned his face away to hide the fact that he'd been crying. He expected the hospital staff telling him he couldn't be here, or Genny coming to reclaim him. He wasn't prepared for Michael.

His little brother entered the room without a word, lay on the floor next to Cole, and rested his head in Cole's lap. It was weird thinking of Michael as a grown man, because Cole only ever saw the kid he'd grown up with, and Michael laying on him was not so unusual. Michael's ear was bleeding, but not too badly. He had scars from when he was little and would scratch out his earpiece when things got too loud. He'd gotten into the habit of turning the thing off when he needed to, and Cole figured that was why he never went for the more technologically advanced, harder to break, impossible to turn off ear implant.

Tearing off another paper towel, Cole dabbed at the blood on Michael's ear and assessed the damage to the earpiece. Baba always yelled at Michael when he broke the thing, and Cole had performed a number of minor repairs as they were growing up so he could keep his little brother out of trouble. It was getting harder to do now that he was older and his fingers were bigger, but Cole had a tiny set of tweezers on his pocket knife. The simple task of repairing the hearing aid made him feel useful and, when Michael didn't get up immediately after, made him feel wanted.

"How's work?" Cole asked, leaning back on his hands.

"Fine," Michael mumbled sullenly, rubbing the fabric of Cole's pants between his fingers. Michael's face was rough with the beard he'd neglected to shave and his hair was unwashed and askew. Whereas Cole was tall and lean, Michael was short and husky, with muscles layered so thickly, no one dared mess with him. Cole hadn't expected much conversation from his brother, considering that he'd scratched out his hearing aid, but Cole was opposed to small talk. When he asked a question, he wanted a real answer. He pressed his thumb under Michael's shoulder blade and massaged in small circles until Michael squirmed and relaxed some.

"How's work?" he asked again.

Michael sighed and rolled onto his back, looking up at his brother. "Weird."

Cole waited quietly for more. He knew from experience that the more questions he asked, the shorter the answers became and he was already starting at one-word answers.

Michael looked sideways and pursed his lips. "The way we grew up – I can't tell anymore if that's the way of the 'verse or if it's just the life our parents chose."

Cole nodded. Michael had always been sheltered from the truth of what happened to them growing up. He'd had Cole standing between him and the harsh reality. Cole had had Zoë, Zoë had had their parents. One by one, those layers had stripped away, and now Michael was seeing the 'verse for what it was.

"I've survived more hardships than men twice my age," Michael continued. "I see you and Genny choosing a different kind of life, and I wonder if you're ignoring reality, or if there really are people who live without … killing."

Cole's stomach tightened as he searched for a way to tell his brother that his life was not as virtuous as it seemed from the outside.

"Maybe it's an ugly truth that all the fanciful bits of life that are safe and whole are built on the broken backs of mercenaries like me," Michael said. "Maybe it doesn't have to be that way. But if it doesn't, why would anyone choose it?"

Cole looked at the ceiling, searching for the words he wanted to say and not knowing where to find them. He glanced down again when Michael laughed softly.

"It's funny how you think in French," Michael said with an amused smile. "You're getting good at it."

"I don't want you knowing what I have to say before I've figured it out," Cole said. He knew most thoughts didn't have a language, but he made a point of not thinking in English or Chinese when he talked to himself.

Michael smiled again and looked away. "I'm glad you made it before… before she…"

Died. Michael couldn't finish the sentence and Cole didn't want him to.

"Did she talk to you?" Cole asked.

Michael shook his head. "They drugged her into such a stupor. It's a miracle I found her at all."

Cole pressed his lips together, feeling the pain that his brother refused to speak. "She asked you to say goodbye, didn't she?"

Michael's face screwed up and he rolled onto his side again so he wouldn't be choked by his own tears. Nodding miserably, he buried his face in Cole's lap and Cole leaned over him protectively, whispering the words to the prayer that Mama always prayed over Michael. It was a prayer for clarity and peace of mind, and somehow, it was the only thing that seemed right to say.

*~*

Kaylee lay on the grass next to Genny, watching the sky turn red as the sun set. It was cold, and they'd gotten a little wet when the sprinklers came on by the garden at twilight, but the fresh air was nice. Jayne was watching the surgery again, and Emily was picking broodingly through the chocolates, not willing to leave her father's side. She did offer a piece to anyone who passed, though she still got a little somber around Genny, and Genny took it to heart. Kaylee and her daughter were a lot alike in that respect. Cole had disappeared somewhere to be by himself, so Kaylee had pulled her daughter aside and now they were lying on the grass outside, shivering, but appreciating the bonding time.

"It feels like we've been separated forever," Genny was saying. "Me and Cole were off in our own little world, first planning the wedding, then having the wedding. I saw everyone there, but even then felt like I hardly got to talk to anyone."

"Weddings can be like that," Kaylee said sympathetically.

Genny paused, found an acorn on the ground, and threw it up in the air. Kaylee batted the acorn away when it nearly fell on her face.

"Poor Emily. It didn't even occur to me that she was scared of losing her dad again."

"Me neither," Kaylee allowed, though now she recalled Inara mentioning something. "She was still little when the crew disbanded. She doesn't remember us like we remember her. I think that's partly Jayne's doing, hardly talking to anyone."

"He talks," Genny said.

Kaylee looked sideways at her daughter and said firmly, "Scolding you does not count as talking."

"It's not me. He talks to Cole sometimes," Genny said reflectively. "Apparently ten minutes before our wedding, Uncle Jayne pulled him aside and gave him a crash course in properly sexing a woman."

"He didn't!" Kaylee said, bursting with amusement, pushing up to her elbows. How had she missed this tidbit?!

"I only found out the other day when we got to Boros," Genny explained. "There was this post card waiting for us that said 'a few more positions I forgot to mention,' and had some stick figure drawings. Cole won't tell me what else was said between 'em, but from what he's tried so far, that must've been one hell of a lesson."

Kaylee and Genny shared a deep-hearted laugh. Kaylee loved that her daughter hadn't inherited Simon's prudish propriety when it came to talking about sex.

"I told Cole we should get him a teaching job at the Guild," Genny continued, folding her arm to pillow her head. "That man knows something about sex."

"You know, he offered me and your dad a threesome as a wedding present," Kaylee recalled.

"And you turned him down?" Genny asked jokingly.

"We all make mistakes," Kaylee said, smiling so hard at the memory her cheeks hurt. "He kept the offer on the table until him and Sky got married. He pulled me aside real serious-like and apologetic."

They both laughed again, and let the silence fall. Genny sighed wistfully.

"Cole talks to him more 'n his own dad," Genny confessed, as though it was a sin Mal and Cole weren't close. "He gets that face-time, you know, and he doesn't have to fight as hard to get it. I think … we had our own little world on Serenity – me and Cole. We were always reaching out to the other kids, trying to get them to join us, but more often than not, it was only ever us."

Kaylee's hand fell over her heart and she felt it breaking with guilt. "You four were thick as thieves growing up."

"I know," Genny said, her voice quivering and tight. "Cole … it just takes him longer to see what he's got. He talks like no one notices him, but Zoë's been on him for months to come campaign with her. She can write, but everyone knows that when Cole talks, the worlds move. He's the only one who hasn't figured it out yet. Now, it looks like he may never."

"Don't say such things," Kaylee insisted. "I always tell you kids – expect the miracle. Anticipate and facilitate."

Genny said the words with her, but they felt empty.

"Zoë will pull through," Kaylee said firmly. "And when she does, she'll need Cole more than ever."

Genny sighed, but didn't argue. "Speaking of miracles, how's Aunt River?"

"She'll be off her feet for a few weeks," Kaylee said, trying to deflect the conversation.

"She's not off 'em now," Genny said. "I stopped by her room and she wasn't there."

*~*


	5. Fear of Losing

PART 5 – Fear of Losing

Michael was glad his brother was here, sheltering him, protecting him, like a life raft amidst a tumultuous sea of pain and confusion. Sitting next to Cole, Michael could finally distinguish his own heart-ache from the mess of thoughts assaulting him, and somehow, it couldn't hurt him as deeply with Cole there shielding him. He could not read Cole telepathically the way he did his Mama or the way he tried to with Zoë. With Cole, as with the rest of the world, he read the intentions and the truth of things. It astounded him to this day that all his brother usually wanted was for him to be there. Cole had his own friends and his own world. When they'd enrolled in a school planet-side, Cole blended easily with the people there. But he always made sure there was a place for Michael.

The heat of grief lifted and Michael felt he'd fall asleep next to his brother, it was so safe there. It had been safe to weep for his sister, without forcing words. Cole wasn't a reader, but he always seemed to know what Michael was thinking, even before Michael could sort it out himself.

"Do you hear them, when they die?" Cole was asking. Michael had handed him a capture with pictures of all the worlds he'd been to, and Cole was reading between the lines, seeing the work that had brought him all those places. Michael always appreciated that Cole listened.

"I hear them beforehand," Michael said, inhaling deeply and itching his face against Cole's leg. He fingered his ear, but Cole swatted his hand away so he wouldn't re-open the cut.

"Always shouting malice and hate, so loud I barely see," Michael continued reflectively. "If you injure them, they just get louder. That's why I go quick, right between the eyes. They're dead before they know they've been shot. Then everything gets real quiet, and I can't help but think the world's a better place now that that voice is silenced."

"Don't go getting a God complex on me," Cole quipped. "I know you and you're not that great."

They shared a laugh and Michael closed his eyes in peace. Somehow, Cole had cut to the heart of his fear, told him the truth, established a safety net, and made a joke in the same sentence. When Cole spoke, Michael was convinced that magic happened.

The silence settled again as Cole scrolled through the pictures on the capture and Michael sat up slowly. His head ached and his skin itched, but so long as Cole wanted him here, he wasn't going anywhere. Cole was looking at the pictures of Athens, which Michael always thought was the prettiest world he'd ever been to until he was abducted and had to kill twenty people to escape. He thought he'd deleted those pictures.

"How'd you avoid the business?" Michael asked. He realized that he didn't even know what Cole did for money these days. Last he'd heard, Cole was living with their grandparents and working on Sihnon. "How'd you get your job?"

"I talked to Mama," Cole shrugged. "She had a friend of a friend who owed someone a favor and they pulled some strings at the Guild."

The Guild! Michael looked at his brother critically. "You're not companioning are you?"

"No," Cole smiled. "I trained for about three weeks, but the rules on Companion dating are pretty complicated. I knew I wanted Genny to be my first, and when it came down to it, I knew I wanted her to be my only. So I withdrew my application and proposed."

"Sap," Michael said, and punched his brother in the shoulder. "So what is your job? Do you teach the romance languages?"

"I work the administrative security side," Cole explained. "I mostly help Companions who have been wronged and need to enforce a black mark. You talk about the fanciful bits being built on the ugly bits. I pretty much hire people and tell them who to shun, rough up, … or kill."

Cole's lips twitched when he finished talking and Michael could tell he didn't like the killing aspect of his work any more than Michael did. Still, Cole knew what he was asking a man to do, so it wasn't like some of the people who Michael had worked for.

"You don't use a gun," Michael offered.

"Murder for hire is still murder," Cole said bitterly. "Companions service the rich and powerful, and they can get in pretty deep need for rescue. I find the men and women who will stop at nothing to save them."

They were silent a moment, letting the words linger. Knowing that Cole's life wasn't as fanciful as he'd imagined gave Michael some semblance of peace.

"Well," Michael began, reaching into his shirt pocket. "I'm very good at my job and I never miss. So if you need me, here's my card."

Cole took the card and burst out laughing. "Mercenaries don't have cards, you dumbass."

Michael shrugged and reached over to scroll through the folders on the capture, calling up a picture of his ex-girlfriend. "That's Chelsia. For her, you'd have gotten business cards too."

*~*

Sky had a collection. When people thought of her, they thought of big guns or the chocolate stash she kept in the armory. But she had a side to her that was sweeter than chocolate. Anytime she saw a rose bush, she'd stop and smell the flower, and then she'd break off a thorn. There weren't many rim worlds with rose gardens, and they hardly ever took in the sites at the core. It didn't matter if they were in the middle of gunfight, she'd stop if she saw one. She kept the thorns in a pillbox on the dresser. Jayne never knew if she knew he'd noticed, and he'd always figured he'd ask her later why she did it.

When they'd come to the hospital that morning and he saw the roses, his heart broke for Sky, and all the mysteries about her he'd never uncover. Then Emily went over to one of the bushes, smelled the flower, and broke off a thorn for herself. Why did she do that? Had she seen her Momma doing it? Did she know why her Momma did it? Jayne couldn't ask her. He didn't want to. It was the same reason he never asked Sky – he preferred the mystery. He could've told Kaylee about the roses. It seemed like a story she'd want to hear, but it seemed wrong to share it. It was something he wanted to treasure – not spread around like cheap gossip.

Jayne sat on the floor of the observation room, half-watching the surgery through the window, and half-watching Emily sleep. Her little head rested on his thigh, and her fingers were fisted around the fabric of his pants. He wanted so much for her to trust his friends – his family. So often, he knew he was getting too close and too attached to the crew, but he couldn't deny the fact that these were the people he wanted with him until the end.

Kaylee dashed in suddenly, wild-eyed with panic, and Jayne tensed. Genny was a few steps behind, breathless and red-faced.

"I can't find River," Kaylee said. "She's not in her room. She's not … I can't find her."

Mal was immediately on his feet. "Does this hospital have a Ward?"

The Ward was an enemy similar to the Academy that had cut River's brains to bits and rendered her crazy. One of Little Zoë's primary goals in life was exposing the inhumanity and bringing them down. They were a powerful group, with a special interest in readers. Jayne had seen their symbol on one of the restricted wings.

"Floor seven," Jayne said, carefully extracting himself from his sleeping daughter. "I'll go."

"I'll come with you," Kaylee said, her voice shaky.

"Where's Michael?" Inara asked. Michael being a reader was Serenity's closest guarded secret and anything threatening River threatened him as well.

Kaylee looked around the room again, her cheeks tightening in fear. "He came inside nearly an hour ago. You haven't seen him?"

"He's probably with Cole," Genny said, placing a calming hand on her mother's arm.

"I'll check," Mal said, switching on his Captain mode. "Wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes looking anyway. Genny, start at the bottom floor and work you're way up. 'Nara, stay here in case someone comes. Let's hope we're being paranoid."

Emily stirred as the groups split, and jumped to her feet to follow Jayne out the door. He took her chin and looked her in the eye.

"Stay with Inara," he told her. He felt weak and he wasn't ready for a fight. It was his own fault for wallowing so much and letting his body decay.

"But –"

"Stay," Jayne ordered her, and then left. There was work to be done.

*~*

Mal knew Cole had ducked into a closet somewhere to be alone. There were times that his son looked at him in a way he didn't understand – like Cole had been drowning and wanted to be saved. But then, he never seemed like he needed saving. Cole was noble and strong, and though Mal was proud of all his kids, he tended to boast about Cole more than the rest. He worried sometimes that it would make the others jealous, but they all lived away from home now. Weren't like they were looking over his shoulder with a score card.

Cole had entered his 'brooding in solitude' stage right around eleven. Inara said it was the teen's right of passage and he'd grow out of it, but in Mal's mind, it started awful close to their day of hell – the first time they'd faced the Ward head on and the first time Cole held a gun to face an enemy and not a practice target – and he couldn't help blaming himself a little.

Michael, on the other hand, was a completely different kind of marvel. Mal had never met anyone faster on the draw than himself, but Michael had taken the title, and he'd done it before Mal got slowed down by arthritis, so Mal had no excuse. He figured it had to do with the way Michael perceived the world. Even being the fastest, Michael practiced at getting faster and sharper, honing every skill. He'd gotten himself hired as a gun hand, but been promoted to first mate within a month. Mal couldn't believe he'd produced someone so extraordinary from a night of sake-induced debauchery.

Mal tipped open the closet, and was relieved to see both Michael and Cole sitting on the floor, laughing their way through a capture. Michael was safe. That was one reader down.

"Have either of you seen River?" Mal asked and they both shook their heads. Of course they wouldn't, having been holed up in this closet. "Well get up off your asses and help look. She's been missing near an hour."

*~*

Michael rubbed his ear self-consciously, but Cole pushed his hand down and shot him a look. The skin was still tender and he knew Baba would notice eventually. He didn't get yelled at anymore since he was paying his own way in the worlds, but he got that firm, disapproving look and that felt just about the same.

"Genny's on the ground floor working up," Baba explained. "You two start at the top and work down. Skip floor seven."

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," Michael said. His tracker instincts were kicking in, and he figured it was smarter to start in Aunt River's room and work out from there. The suggestion stopped his father on a dime, and he turned around sharply, pressing nose to nose with Michael.

"You're not to be alone," his father warned in a low threatening tone. Michael looked at him, trying to read the source of his father's fear, but all he got was that loud blaring warning siren.

"Dong ma," Michael said, knowing better than to question. Anything that worried his father worried him. His father handed him a radio and he looked at it like the confusing anachronism it was.

"I liberated a few of these from the front desk," Baba said with a wink. "We're on channel four."

Michael shook his head, figuring he should've expected as much from his father. He nodded to Cole and headed for the stairs. It was a long way to the top, but River was the type to sit in a stairwell.

Clearing his mind, he reached out to her, seeking her in her extra-sensory arena. _Aunt Riiiver. People are looking for you._

He listened, hearing mostly the echo of their physical foot-steps up the stairs. Reading his Aunt River was easy compared to the others, because he knew exactly where to stand and meet her. He had his own place in her arena and didn't keep running into stray thoughts from bystanders. She was crouched and hiding her face, whispering a nursery rhyme to herself. Aunt River could be cryptic and playful at times, but this was not her hide-n-seek giggle.

_Tell me where you are. Everyone is worried_.

No response. She wasn't even acknowledging the nudge. Had she lost herself?

_At least tell me if you're alright_, he begged, starting to feel worried. He wondered if it would be too impertinent to move from his spot in her arena and try to look through her eyes. If he strayed from his place, and she wasn't herself, she might think him an intruder. His father had been right to be concerned. _Aunt River, are you okay?_

Suddenly, the whole arena exploded in light and Michael's face stung like he'd been whacked with a lead pipe. The force knocked him sideways and he lost his footing, but Cole grabbed his wrist, jerking him sharply and keeping him from falling down the stairs.

"Michael!" Cole cried in concern, lowering him quickly but gently to sitting and searching for the emergency syringe.

"No," Michael grunted, staying his brother's hand. It wasn't that kind of blast that had knocked him.

"What's going on?" Cole urged, grabbing the radio and calling for help.

"I'm fine," Michael insisted, trying to sit up on his own, but finding it made him dizzy. He swore and touched his nose, wondering if it was broken, bruised, or just bleeding. The door to the stairwell burst open and Uncle Jayne charged through. Michael swore again, hating that he'd caused a scene.

"False alarm," Cole said apologetically, though he was panting with residual panic. Uncle Jayne still checked them both over. He'd taken one false step through her mind, and River had knocked him pretty hard.

"Ta ma de, I hate it when she does that," Michael griped irritably. He was going to have a black eye from this.

"If Baba wanted you to look that way, he would have asked," Cole chastised. "Did she say where she was?"

Michael groaned as Uncle Jayne pressed a wad of napkins to his bleeding nose, but he couldn't pull away without hitting his head against Cole's chest, and he felt like a damn invalid. Forcing some sense out of what little he'd picked up, he said, "She thinks she's dying. She's probably curled up on a pile of laundry or some place safe."

"The jumper," Cole said, looking directly at Jayne. "I'll check."

"No," Jayne said, standing and pulling out his radio. "You stay with him."

Cole swallowed his frustration as Jayne radioed the others. Then Jayne squatted in front of Michael and Cole, chuckled at the pair of them, and reached into his pocket for a hip flask. There was no danger and no rush to move, so the three of just sat there and medicated Michael's injury with scotch.

*~*

Mal was glad to get the message from Jayne because the world was a big place for River to get lost in. The jumper made sense. Kaylee's hand-crafted, personal, inter-world transport was familiar ground for River and it was parked right on the roof of the building. The night air had turned chilly, and the wind whipped across the roof-top, but as he approached, he saw the hatch was open, and he could hear River's soft, whimpering voice leaking out. The only lights were closer to the center landing pad, and cast long shadows across the area. Mal felt like he was robbing a grave.

River was curled into the pilot's seat of the jumper – not that there were too many places for her to be. The jumper only fit ten people school-bus style, and those so long as no one planned on stretching their legs. Mal hunched over so he wouldn't hit his head in the ceiling, and wove through the bench seats to get to the front. River writhed and moaned, her fingers curling and un-curling around the yoke.

Mal radioed Kaylee saying he'd found River, and told her to get all the others back to the observation room. There was too much worry to be had by being apart from each other.

"Little River, are you planning to fly some place?" Mal asked her.

"Leave me alone," River snapped, then pounded the air in front of her face and pressed her cheek against the headrest. It sounded cogent enough. Mal inched a little closer, trying to see if she was hurt.

"That was quite a wallop you gave Michael," he said. "I think maybe you should come in and apologize."

"Nosy hun dan," River carped. The sane side of her wanted to be alone, but the crazy side of her was worrisome.

"You'll freeze to death sitting out here," Mal pointed out, though River looked flushed enough to furnace a crematorium. Her little floral shirt was damp with perspiration.

"Useless," she whimpered. "Left us to die. Useless."

Mal couldn't tell if that was a sane or crazy thing to say. "I ain't giving you my coat."

River sobbed and shivered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Sick. Can't walk."

"I'm old and broken. I can't carry you," Mal said dryly. Squatting beside her, he could tell she wasn't injured, and given her tendency to break into violence when crazy, he debated with himself as to whether he could touch her. Finally, he placed a tentative hand on her elbow.

"Daddy," she whispered, looking out the window into the shadows like she'd seen a ghost. Mal shook his head.

"How many times I got to tell you, you don't get to call me that."

"Daddy, take me home," she cried, curling into a ball and sobbing. She repeated the request over and over. Finally, Mal relented, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her inside.

*~*

Inara was getting antsy and weary, and Emily watched nervously as she paced. She'd heard Cole's cry for help on the radio, but nothing since then. Mal had told her to stay put. Damn him. Three minutes. Five minutes. Ten.

"Auntie 'Nara," Emily said softly, taking her hand and blocking her path to stop her from pacing.

"Stay here," Inara said firmly, heading for the door, but Emily followed her out into the hall. Genny was dashing through the corridor toward them.

"Did you hear anything?" she asked urgently. "I think they're in the back stairwell!"

Inara took Emily's hand and the three of them hurried down the hall. Before they reached the stairs, the door to the stairwell opened. Jayne held the door while Cole supported Michael with an arm under his shoulders. Michael held a stack of bloody napkins to his nose with one hand, and an open flask in the other.

"Michael!" Inara cried, running to support him from the other side. "What happened?"

"He's fine, Mama. Just got knocked," Cole said. He released his brother, and true enough, Michael was stable on his own feet. Genny hugged Cole covering him with relieved kisses and Emily embraced her father.

"Everyone's here," Michael murmured in bewilderment, gazing at the bunch of them.

Inara directed him back to the observation lounge and he moved slowly, more from confusion than injury. "Where did you expect us to be?"

"Bi zui," Michael said weakly. "Bi zui."

"Maybe we should get ice," Inara said, looking at Cole.

Cole held up a blue pack. "I got him ice. He's just being a sha gua."

"Tian sha de, cao!" Michael cried irritably, swatting at Inara's hand as she tried to get a better look at his face. He had a look in his eyes like he didn't even know her. "Get off me!"

"Hey," she warned, grabbing his hand before he hit her. "I'm your mother; I'm supposed to fuss. It's in my contract."

"There's always fine print," Michael griped, his confusion clearing somewhat. "Ta ma de! I'm not a kid anymore!"

"I should slap you for talking like that to me," Inara said sternly as they rounded the corner to the observation lounge. Then she added, "If your face weren't bruised already, I would slap you."

She motioned for him to sit, but he didn't. Looking pained, he backed away from her, into a corner, resting his hand on the gun he had concealed under his shirt. If he were rested, he'd be able to handle the group of them, but he never liked being the center of attention when everyone looking at him was worried. Inara quieted her mind as much as she could, thought the words of the prayer she'd been praying for him since he was a boy, then crossed the room boldly, pulled his hand away from his gun, and pressed his shoulders until he sat down.

"Bi zui," Michael moaned, burying his face in his hands without touching the bruises. "Bi zui."

Inara looked at Cole and he winced pitifully, then swallowed the thought and reached into his pocket.

"Hey, Genny, check this out," he said, showing her a card, if only to pull her attention off of Michael.

Genny looked at the card and smiled broadly. "That is so adorable."

"What is that?" Kaylee asked, looking over their shoulders as she entered. Inara found she was curious as well, but she stayed with her son.

"A business card," Genny said sweetly, waving the card at Michael. "Did you pay money for this?"

"Qu ni de," Michael muttered under his breath. Inara covered her mouth, trying to hide an amused smile.

"His girlfriend made them," Cole said teasingly.

"Girlfriend?" Genny squealed.

"Ex!" Michael shouted at them, annoyed, but not pained like before. "Yesu, Cole, why do I tell you things?"

Cole shrugged in mock innocence. "A card is a public thing. It's meant to be passed around."

Genny and Kaylee started complimenting the colors and font and Michael's face turned red in embarrassment. Then Cole swiped the card from Genny.

"I said you could look. I didn't say you could take it," he said, dusting the card off and holding it protectively. "I might find need for his services some day."

"It's not like you'll forget his name," Inara teased. She wanted to get up and see the card, but so long as Michael was armed and not at his best, she wasn't moving from his side.

"Michael, can I have a card?" Emily asked.

"Hey, if you need anyone killed, you ask me first. You hear?" Jayne snapped. They all looked at Jayne, excited at the prospect that he might be joining their conversation, but he didn't add anything else.

Michael reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a card for Emily, and then he rested his face on his hands and elbows on his knees. Inara noticed him very quietly reaching behind his ear to switch off the hearing aid. She rubbed his back sympathetically, and knew he was wearing down because he didn't shrug her off. Every now and then he'd clamp his hands over his ears then rake his fingers through his hair.

"How's River?" Inara asked, changing the subject.

"Captain found her on the roof," Kaylee said.

"Ice. Mama," Michael whispered miserably. Inara snapped her fingers, motioning for Cole to give her the cold pack. Michael hissed when she pressed it to his face, but he settled again. Genny and Cole started talking about other things and Emily was holding on to Michael's card like it was made of solid gold. Jayne stayed by the window watching the surgery and keeping one hand on Emily's head.

Kaylee sat down on the floor next to Inara looking exhausted, and then pulled out her radio. "Everyone's accounted for, Cap."

The delay in response was just long enough to get Inara's heart rate up again. Then Mal replied, "Can one of you let me in. I got locked out."

*~*


	6. Hint of a Miracle

PART 6 – Hint of a Miracle

River couldn't decide if she wanted to cling to Mal or not, but she kept crying out for 'daddy' and he wasn't correcting her, and Kaylee wasn't quite sure how to read that. He sat on the bed with her, holding the blanket to her because she kept pushing it off, and tried to rub some warmth into her bones. Kaylee sat on the side of the bed, stroking River's hair, and murmuring soothes. She needed Simon and a box of tissues would not go amiss either.

"I want to go home," River cried over and over, rocking against Mal, alternately pounding her head against his chest and trying to escape his embrace.

"We ain't going anywhere 'til Zoë pulls through, so just settle yourself down," Kaylee said firmly. Mal gave her a look and she gave him a look right back. Being accommodating wasn't going to change things, so she may as well speak honestly. River furrowed her brow and stopped whining, trying to understand the rebuke.

"I want to fly the ship," she explained, her eyes finding focus as she processed where she was. She separated herself from Mal and edged carefully off the bed, closing her eyes when her bare feet hit the cold tile floor. Mal stood and blocked the door to the hospital room so she wouldn't dart out.

Then she said, "The ship is home."

"You mean that luxury boat?" Kaylee asked. She could never remember the name of the ship River worked on.

River shook her head and circled the room, touching the walls like they were paths to another time, then she looked back at them and said, "Serenity."

Mal inhaled and shuddered. "Little River, Serenity ain't going anywhere unless it's in the hold of a much bigger ship. Best we can do is weld the name plate onto something that ain't so broken."

"Sick," River murmured, then she leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, hugging her stomach. "Useless."

"How sick are you?" Kaylee asked, setting a bowl down next to her in case she vomited again. "Do I need to get Simon?"

River shook her head and pressed back against the wall, tense with pain. Tears fell from her eyes and she inhaled a raggedy breath. "S.O.S."

Kaylee's jaw dropped in surprise and disbelief. S.O.S was their code for guy trouble. Being off her meds, men were the least of River's worries, but at least an S.O.S was something Kaylee knew how to treat without a medical consult. "Is that what this crying is about?"

River raised her arm like she was blocking a punch, then she said it again. "S.O.S."

"Cap – Mal, will you give us a moment," Kaylee said. Mal nodded, indicating he'd be right outside in case River tried something crazy. When the door closed, she turned to River again. "Do you want to tell me about him?"

"I wanted to," River said weakly. "Then Zoë happened. It seems so … unimportant."

"When a man's got you sick to your stomach and made you feel like you're gonna die, that's an S.O.S.," Kaylee assured, sitting on the floor next to River. She had one of Emily's chocolates in her pocket, and she handed it to River, even though River probably wouldn't keep it down. "Is this about the cook you've been seeing? What's his name? Daquan?"

"Doesn't matter," River said, her voice sounding hollow. "He left me… left us."

"Us?" Kaylee repeated, sitting straight and alert. It couldn't be.

"This is not what I planned."

"River, are you …" Kaylee couldn't even process the thought. River pregnant? "Is that why you stopped your meds?"

"Can't. Shouldn't. Not strong enough."

Kaylee embraced River, her mind suddenly spinning about the notion. One week with River off meds would be hectic. Nine months would be a trip. But her sister-in-law had wanted this for so long, that Kaylee would do anything to help her claim it.

*~*

Mal waited outside of River's room for all of ten minutes, but there didn't seem to be anything loud, crazy, or violent going on, and he didn't like standing still. The observation lounge was crowded, but in a familiar way. Genny and Cole chatted amicably with Inara. Emily listened and chimed in occasionally, but was glued to her father's hip. Jayne had one arm around his daughter, but stared silently though the window watching the surgery. Michael was curled in a ball in the corner, sleeping under a pile of everyone's coats.

"One of y'all got a capture of this, right?" he asked the others, pointing to Michael.

"Naturally," Genny grinned.

Mal paced the room once, trying to decide where to land. He added his coat to the pile on top of Michael, and thought about catching up with Cole, but he wasn't feeling social enough to talk. He could listen to the conversation just as well when standing by the window. He was saved the trouble of deciding when Jayne turned around.

"It's done," he said, heaving a sigh of relief and looking up. Mal wasn't sure the comment was addressed to any of them.

Simon came in a few minutes later. Somehow it didn't matter that he'd just finished a twelve hour surgery and was standing among friends, the professional mask would not fall away until the news was delivered and everyone went their own way. Simon always waited until he was alone to feel things. It was his way.

Genny stood, greeting her father with a brief hug. He hugged her back, more out of protocol than anything else. He'd steeled himself.

"How is she?" Mal asked.

"Stable," Simon reported, a little too cautiously for Mal's liking. "There's a tumor on the spine still. We couldn't get all of it without damaging the nerves, but it's small enough that it can be treated medically not surgically."

Mal released a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and embraced Inara. Relief coursed through him. It wasn't the worst prognosis he'd heard over the years.

"Jamie is setting her up in recovery," Simon continued. "You can see her there… well, in small groups. She won't wake for another hour or so."

The tension in the room broke noticeably as everyone stood, stretched, and wondered what to do now that most of the worrying was over with. Mal went to the pile of coats and nudged Michael's shoulder.

"Wake up, son," Mal said softly, unlayering the coats and handing them to their rightful owners. "It's over."

"Not now," Michael murmured, grabbing the last coat and holding on. "I got a great dream going – a pretty girl and a steak dinner."

Mal chuckled lightly, but froze when he saw Kaylee come in. Had River disappeared again? Kaylee placed a hand on Simon's shoulder and whispered something in his ear so that the rest couldn't hear. Mal was not a fan of secrets – especially the kind that made Simon's eyes go so wide they nearly fell out of his head.

"That … can't … be," Simon mouthed slowly.

"Is everything alright?" Mal asked.

"Yeah, fine," Simon breathed, and then looked at Kaylee again, furrowing his brow and scratching his head, completely confounded.

"Kaylee, what's goin' on?" Mal asked. "Is this something to do with the S.O.S?"

"S.O.S?" Inara repeated, alert, and sounding like she knew exactly what the code meant. "Mal, why didn't you tell me?"

Mal threw his hands up and backed away.

"Everything's shiny, Cap," Kaylee assured, shooting a quick look at Inara as she said it. "Go see Zoë."

Inara tugged Mal's elbow. "Come on, Mal. River is in good hands."

Kaylee and Inara exchanged a conspiratorial glance as Kaylee pulled Simon into the hall. Simon still looked dumbstruck, but he poked his head in a moment later.

"Recovery ward is that way," he said distractedly, pointing at the door frame. "I'll …"

Mal watched him go again, frustrated that no one would tell him what the hell was going on. But Inara squeezed his hand and he wanted to see Zoë.

*~*

Cole paced the hallway outside the recovery room, peeking through the small window on the door, trying to catch a glimpse of Zoë. It was frustrating, being so close and not being allowed in. This was his sister. Everyone else got to see her before the surgery and hold her hand and say their words, and now they were getting a second chance and he was out here. Genny placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder when he paused by the door again. Michael leaned against the wall, half-sleeping.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Cole cursed the fire marshals and leaned on the wall next to Michael, brooding and waiting his turn. He looked up as Jamie approached. Jamie's shoulders were hunched in weariness and his hair was wet, meaning he'd probably held his head under a faucet. He'd changed into clean scrubs, but the flip-flops on his feet meant he was done working for now. When he saw them, Jamie broke into a wide smile and started running. Cole grinned and laughed, infected by his friend's enthusiasm.

"Hey, genius," Cole greeted his old playmate, laughing as Jamie tackled him in a giant bear hug. "Long time, no see."

"You're the one who ran off with my sister to tour the worlds," Jamie joked wryly, wrestling playfully to get the upper hand. They were almost matched for height now, but Cole was stronger. He could win wrestling matches with Jamie easier than with Genny, because Genny fought dirty.

"Glad you're here," Jamie said, laughing as he doubled over, utterly failing to flip Cole on his back. Jamie always said sentimental things like that, and the words sent a grateful tingle through Cole's heart.

Genny pinched Cole's neck – fighting dirty – and pulled him off Jamie so that she could hug her twin. "It's good news," she said cautiously, "about Zoë."

"Is that what dad said?" Jamie asked, his tone changing quickly to bitter.

"Jamie, stop," Cole warned.

Jamie swallowed his cynicism, trying to absorb some cheer and optimism by keeping his sister in a one-armed hug. "He would know. He's seen all the miracles."

Jamie was there when Sky died. It was what compelled him to go to medical school. All of the sudden, his inner genius emerged, and he skipped ahead of Cole in his schooling. He finished three grade levels of course work in half a year, and won a full ride scholarship to the university of his choice. But no matter how smart he got, he couldn't bring Sky back. As proud as Cole was of his friend, he hated the cynicism that Jamie carried with that burden, and he wouldn't tolerate it. He crossed her arms and gave Jamie a look that told him he'd better shape up his attitude or Cole would shape it for him. It was a threat, but it always made Jamie smile.

"I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled. "I'm –"

"Tired," Michael finished. They all looked at him. He was usually more polite about not finishing people's thoughts.

"I was going to say hungry," Jamie said.

"No, I'm tired," Michael clarified.

"Aww, do you want your Mommy," Genny teased sympathetically, wrapping an arm around Michael. He rested his head wearily on top of hers.

"Carry me."

Genny laughed and rubbed his shoulders. "I would, but you've turned into a damn boulder. Seriously. Look at these muscles."

She poked Michael's side, but he wasn't ticklish like Cole was, and he just whined irritably.

"This from the woman who wanted to carry me across the threshold," Cole laughed. "You could carry him if you wanted to."

"He's got seventy pounds on her!" Jamie countered. "Lift, yes. Carry, no."

"She could," Cole insisted. "I will bet lunch she can carry him from here to the sandwich shop."

"Thank you so much for volunteering me for this valiant test of your manhood, husband," Genny said sardonically.

Cole puffed his chest. "I'll carry him."

"I would rather you didn't," Michael said tiredly. "I already got a black eye today. I don't need a concussion."

"Shen sheng de gao wan. Why does anyone have to be carried?" Jamie interrupted. "I'm hungry. Let's eat."

"I wouldn't drop you," Cole said to Michael, lowering his voice as they started walking.

"You dropped me," Genny said.

"You were putting up a fight," Cole said defensively, holding up a finger to forestall the judgment of the other guys. Then he pointed at Michael. "Little zombie man knows if you don't want to be dropped, you lie there like a sack of potatoes."

"Me. Gun. You. Head. Shoot. Explode," Michael grumbled tiredly. "Tian a, I'm too tired to make threats."

Cole covered his mouth and laughed at his brother.

"Where's Emily?" Jamie asked.

Cole wrinkled his nose and nodded bitterly back toward the door to the recovery room.

"Sticking to her Papa's side," Genny explained. "She's still not convinced this isn't an elaborate form of intervention."

"Heartless sha gua! Ni men dou!" Jamie gave them an incredulous look, then ran back to the door and poked his head inside. "Hey, squirt. Let's get lunch and catch up."

Jamie's ability to get Emily to obey was rivaled only by Uncle Jayne's. Cole figured everyone must have someone like that in their lives – not just someone you knew wanted the best for you, but who would do the same for you that you would do for yourself – someone whose intentions you never questioned. Emily came out immediately, looking annoyed, but in good spirits.

"My Momma is taller than you. My Papa is taller than you. One day I'll be taller than you, and you won't be able to call me squirt," she told Jamie.

Jamie laughed at her and messed up her hair. She punched his arm and tickled his sides. Then she jumped on his back and planted a giant raspberry on his cheek. Jamie adjusted his grip and piggy-back carried Emily down the hall. It always amazed Cole that Jamie could wrestle and run in those flip flops without losing them.

"She gets carried," Michael pointed out in a mock whine as they started walking again.

"Hey, Jamie. Michael gave me his card," Emily said excitedly, reaching around to show Jamie the business card.

Michael sighed again and Cole put an arm around his little brother's shoulder, trying hard not to laugh with the others. He'd missed them all so much.

*~*


	7. Defeating Silence

PART 7 – Defeating silence

Jayne coughed dryly and sat on the floor next to Zoë's bed. It was the first time since they got there that Emily had willingly let him out of her sight, and he thought maybe he should find a toilet to take advantage of his fortune, but he didn't have to go. Jamie had called her out and she jumped up with barely a glance back at him for permission. It was the kind of trust that flew in the face of all sense, but Jayne had had a similar relationship with one of his cousins growing up, and he was glad the years apart hadn't broken that bond between Emily and Jamie. The floor was hard, but he was too tired to stand. Inara had taken the only stool at the foot of the bed and Mal was walking up and down the length of it, taking Zoë's hand whenever he passed near enough.

Jayne looked at his old friend pacing restlessly. He and Mal had seen Zoë through a dozen hospitals over the years and worked over a dozen more to get the supplies they needed to keep her out of them. Jayne had gotten frustrated over the past few years with Mal watching after him and coddling him after Sky's death. But Mal didn't bring him here to keep an eye on him. The hospital, standing by Zoë, was where their roles reversed and Mal needed Jayne on the watch. It was like seeing Mal go back to the war – the only place he knew of with enough hurt and pain to overshadow what he was feeling. Jayne always had to pull him out of this place when the dust cleared.

"No fair dragging me out here if she's gonna live anyway," Jayne griped. It was the longest sentence he'd directed at anyone besides Emily in a long while and it was meant to open a conversation. Mal took the invitation and sat down on the floor as well, resting his forearms on his knees and staring reflectively at his finger tips.

"My momma always said if you want to stop the rain, carry an umbrella," Mal said. Jayne figured he meant something by it, but Jayne had never been good with metaphors.

"Saw something the other day that I thought you'd like," Mal said.

"Was it a gun?" When Jayne had first thrown out his guns, Mal was always trying to push the topic, but he'd eventually given up. Now, Jayne wasn't so sure he'd mind seeing a rifle or talking about a custom pistol. So he was disappointed when Mal shook his head.

"Nope. It was a swing," Mal said. He bobbed his head and smiled to himself. "I figure you're always standing next to that pond, and I thought you might like to sit some time."

"You bought me a swing?" Jayne said slowly in awkward disbelief.

"Hell, no," Mal said and Jayne let go of a breath. "I was standing there thinking about it and I realized I'm old and I want to sit some time. So I bought me a swing."

They both chuckled and fell silent. It had been awhile since Jayne had sat with Mal and talked about stupid things that didn't change anything but somehow meant everything.

Inara stood and touched Mal's head as she walked past, then she took Zoë's hand. Jayne craned his neck, but he didn't see anything. He stole a glance at Mal, then looked at his hands, wondering if he should broach a subject that mattered a little. So long as his tongue was loose, he may as well.

"You started gun training Emily," he stated.

Mal's eyes widened a little and he inhaled guiltily. "Did she tell you that?"

"Didn't have to," Jayne said. "I see it in the way she stands."

Mal's face twitched as he measured his response and he made a few croaking sounds like he was about to deny either knowledge or responsibility. He opted for the latter. "I wouldn't say I started anything. You and Sky started gun training before toilet training."

"Toilet training accidents are easier to clean up after," Jayne whispered hoarsely. He and Sky had had fifty guns between them, most kept in their quarters. Teaching Emily how to handle them safely was a matter of survival.

"She remembers a good bit," Mal said encouragingly. "She knows both you and Sky loved gun play. She just asked me for a refresher before she forgot everything. Would you have said no?"

Jayne sighed, not having an answer. He wished his daughter had asked him. It was something he loved and wanted so desperately to share with her, and he couldn't protect her from the kinds of accidents that claimed her Momma's life, so he may as well teach her what he knew. Choking back a sob, Jayne rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could undo the mistakes he'd made since Sky died – the running, the hiding, the pretending.

"I threw it all away," he whispered.

Mal said nothing, but he kept his ear turned, waiting for Jayne to say more. It was getting easier to talk. He could almost think about Sky without his heart screaming in pain. He couldn't imagine taking everything he and Sky loved so much in their lives and keeping it from Emily. Jayne had words to say – words about Sky – and it occurred to him that this was one of those stories that Kaylee told him people wanted to hear. Pressing his lips together, Jayne forced the words.

"Sky had this semi-automatic," he began, holding out his hands as if he could still see the gun sitting in them. "Damn thing was pink. I don't even know where to get pink guns, but Sky had a dozen of them. She liked to match her outfits."

Mal laughed and nodded, remembering as well.

"Now I see Emily wanting to learn, and I can't even give her her Momma's gun," Jayne said guiltily. "I don't have anything…"

That was it – Jayne's regret. It was his fault that Sky was more lost than she needed to be. It was his fault that Emily had nothing but her memory to hold on to her Momma by. At the time, it made so much sense to purge his world of that hurt, but now, it seemed like the cruelest curse he could've laid on his daughter.

Mal was smiling reminiscently and that only made it hurt more.

"You're forgetting a simple truth," Mal said softly, "that when you were there throwing everything away, there was a little ray of sunshine named Kaylee keeping you company."

Jayne's jaw dropped, not daring to hope. Mal nodded and smirked.

"She and Genny spent three hours rooting through that trash bin making sure they recovered every keepsake. And Kaylee held onto every bit until she and Simon moved to their little shack on the beach. Then she made me take it all, because I have that big garage."

Jayne's mouth flapped, trying to process the notion and cursing himself for keeping his guilt a secret for so long. His heart skipped beats left and right. "You're telling me that you have all my guns?"

"Not all of 'em. Not anymore," Mal shrugged, and Jayne's heart faltered. "When Michael left last year, he took everything that wasn't pink. Emily started coming by once a week to maintain the rest. So you can stop wishing. She has her Momma's gun."

Jayne's head hurt. His brain hurt. He was sad, happy, angry, overjoyed, and had a sudden urge to reclaim all that was his. "Michael took all my guns?"

"He had to," Mal said. "No one hires a merc that don't come with his own fire power and Zoë cleaned me out years ago. I had nothing else to give him."

"Cole?" Jayne checked, wanting to make sure nothing got lost.

"He's just got the one," Mal said. "Doesn't like to use it. Hasn't made a kill with it yet, though I can't say I'm sorry for that."

Cole had always liked guns for shooting skeet and hated them for killing. He preferred blades for fighting and was zhen de shi scary. It was strange facing off with a man like Cole, because you knew he could kill and you knew he would, but you never wanted him to prove it. He got that look in his eyes, like he'd bring you back from the dead and kill you all over again just so you knew he meant it. But only if you pushed him. Cole had more mercy than a passhold full of Shepherds.

"Do you know he can speak ten languages now?" Mal said proudly. "He can talk his way out of anything. He's probably the only man in the 'verse who can win an argument with his wife."

Jayne grunted in amusement. "Genny don't use words. She fights like her Aunt River. I told Cole that if he ever wants kids, it's best just to let her win."

"When did you say that?" Mal asked, sounding jealous that he hadn't been privy to it.

"At his wedding," Jayne said. "Can't let a man step into manhood without some man-to-man advice."

"You didn't offer him a threesome did you?"

Jayne laughed from his belly like he hadn't done in ages. "Ain't one of them has enough experience to make that fun for me."

Jayne had conceded many things over the years, but having scruples was not among them. Still, Mal had both scruples and guns and he used the latter to impose the former. It was amazing how much self-preservation could look like scruples. Jayne would never have offered, though – not to Genny and Cole. Finding the one love of his life had changed Jayne immeasurably, and Cole was lucky to have found his love so early.

"It's crazy," Mal said. "Him working for the Guild."

"He's doing what?!" Jayne cried.

"That's what I said when 'Nara told me," Mal laughed.

Jayne stared at him a moment longer, slack jawed, waiting for the punch line, but this didn't seem to be a joke. His back started to hurt and he realized it was stupid sitting on the floor here, or standing by a window with his back turned when he could be seeing all his kids and sharing their lives. They were all his, every one, and he wanted to know what was going on. He shifted and stretched, testing his joints before trying to stand.

"I think it's time I got on my feet again," he said, and he meant it more than just literally, though that's what he did first.

Mal looked up at him from the floor. "I'd join you, but my leg's gone numb."

"The one that was shot?" Jayne asked.

"Shot which time?"

"The last time," Jayne said critically. "The time that forced you to retire."

"Oh…" Mal said dumbly, then he considered both legs. "Which leg was that?"

Jayne shook his head and hauled up his old friend, feeling like he'd climbed out of a well and was seeing sunlight for the first time in ages. He smiled at Mal, then Inara, then Little Zoë. She was awake, but weary, blinking slowly, her hand loosely set in Inara's.

"How long have you been awake?" Mal asked his daughter, smiling warmly and caressing her cheek.

"Not long," Inara said. "Zoë was enjoying the sound of you two talking too much to interrupt."

Zoë smiled softly, then her head lolled against the pillow, and she fell asleep again. A tap sounded at the door and Jayne looked up. All the kids were crowded around the window, waiting for their chance to come inside.

*~*

Simon couldn't believe it. He had the blood test; he heard the heartbeat; and still he was blown away. His sister's pregnancy wasn't just against the odds, it was a flat out defiance of the physiological damage that had occurred to her at the Academy. Simon had seen a lot of miracles since coming on Serenity, but this was the most amazing, logic-defying – even faith-defying – in scope. This was 'mother of Isaac' huge. He couldn't even quantify the risks, because there was no fathomable way she should still be carrying the child into the eighth week, given the meds she'd been on.

River was upset and feverish, and Simon knew it would only get worse as her system detoxed and the nightmares of what had happened at the Academy returned. Kaylee bit her lip and watched sympathetically as Simon absorbed the wonder and horror of it. He sat next to his sister on the cold, hard floor, and rocked her, whispering soothes.

"Hey," Jamie greeted, entering quietly and closing the door behind him. He didn't seem surprised to find River and Simon sitting on the floor. "I brought you some lunch."

Simon looked at the sandwich appreciatively, and reached out for it while keeping one arm around River. He'd learned long ago not to wait until River calmed down because some days, that just didn't happen.

"Give me the hemoxalin," River whimpered miserably. "I can't do this, Simon. I can't."

"River," Simon said gently, cradling her face and wiping the tears from her eyes. "Hemoxalin will kill the baby. Do you understand?"

"She's having a baby?" Jamie asked, as excited and intrigued by the medical anomaly as Simon had been.

"Oh, no," River begged. "No, don't kill her. Don't."

"Her?" Simon repeated with a smile, wondering if River was intuitive enough to know that as a fact.

River screeched and buried her face in Simon's shoulder. "He left us. Left us to die."

"Well, I'm not leaving you," Simon assured. "We'll do what we can."

He turned back to his sandwich, smiling to himself when he noticed Jamie examining River discreetly. Being on the floor made it easier to manage eating, and the sandwich tasted like a piece of heaven – egg salad with spicy mustard and no disgusting chunks of relish mixed in.

"It may be too late already," Jamie murmured. "The drug withdrawal on top of –"

"Jamie," Kaylee warned sharply. Jamie flinched and bit back his doubt.

"Anticipate and facilitate," he said mechanically, sighing at the mantra Kaylee had practically beaten into him. He looked at the ceiling, then crossed his arms. "Try dubrycylin. It's like spitting on a wildfire, but it won't hurt the baby."

Simon looked up in surprise and appreciation. He'd dismissed dubrycylin for River years ago as too weak to be effective, but Jamie had a point. Something weak was better than nothing at all. All his life, he'd been waiting for this day – someone to talk to about River.

"River, why don't we get you off the floor," Simon suggested. He was so excited to talk to Jamie he was liable to dance across the room with glee. Disentangling himself from his sister, he grabbed his cane and levered himself into a squat, prompting her to move with a hand on her elbow.

"Feels better here," River said simply, her voice suddenly calm and plaintive. "I like the cold."

"Poor thing," Kaylee said sympathetically. "She's gotta go through withdrawal, morning sickness, and those damn pregnancy cramps all at once."

"You'll feel more comfortable on the bed," Simon said, trying again to get River to move. River lolled her head and looked at him like he was an idiot for suggesting she move.

"Leaver her there if she says she wants it," Kaylee said, sitting on the floor across from them. "Ain't no getting comfortable with some cramps. You just … sit there and you're miserable."

Simon sat back on his heels, then lost balance and toppled onto his rear, landing hard next to Kaylee.

"Hundreds of years of medicine – you'd think someone would've found a cure," Kaylee said in mock annoyance, looking squarely at Jamie.

"Inciting orgasm works every time," Jamie replied nonchalantly.

Simon winced and ducked his head. Despite his best efforts, his children had no sense of propriety.

"Sexual activity dissipates vascular congestion and increases blood flow to the uterus," River told Simon seriously, twirling her hair around her finger.

"Thank you. I did go to medical school," Simon said sarcastically. "I'm going out on a limb and saying it's not appropriate in this setting."

"Always doing what's appropriate," Kaylee teased, crawling her fingers up his calf.

Rolling his eyes, Simon pushed her hand away. "Twenty-some years and you still won't let that go."

Kaylee was not so easily deterred. Pulling herself onto hands and knees, she straddled his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nibbled his ear. Her hands slid over his chest and he smiled, falling into kissing her, forgetting briefly that there was anything else in the 'verse that needed doing.

"You do plenty that's inappropriate," Kaylee said coyly.

"Hey!" Jamie snapped. "No cramps, no inappropriate sex in a public hospital. Get a room."

Kaylee sat back laughing, but Simon chased her and held her close. He knew River fed off their intimacy and Jamie could handle a little public display. All the weariness that had threatened to overwhelm him was suddenly fading away.

"Fine," Simon conceded, kissing his wife playfully. "No sex."

Jamie grunted and sat on the bed, ignoring them and kicking his feet at the air. "It's best to minimize the time she's off her meds," Jamie said, thinking out loud. "We can induce delivery at twenty-eight weeks and maybe keep the baby in NICU until her weight gets up."

Simon stopped kissing and tried to think. Kaylee very graciously stopped nipping at his collar bone, but she didn't get off his lap.

"Maybe push it to thirty-two weeks," Simon suggested. "It will be difficult finding a hospital with proper facilities that won't take one look at River …"

He trailed off, looking worriedly at his sister. Assuming she carried the baby to any reasonable term, there was no telling what her mental state would be when she delivered. Any respectable facility would call child services for sure. No one would let someone in River's condition care for an infant.

But Simon had seen her with all of Serenity's babies, and never once been afraid for them. Something about the children calmed her. He had a hope that in the later stages of the pregnancy, River's connection to her unborn child would calm her.

"If you want to have the baby at home …" Jamie started, but trailed off. He scratched his head and then his nose, then he tugged his ear. "There's an older hospital on Osiris that's closing down. They're auctioning medical equipment. A lot of rim buyers are coming. If we can raise the money –"

"Or if we knew any petty thieves –"

"Hey!" Kaylee warned, swatting Simon this time. "We agreed. No stealing from places Jamie is working."

"I'm not working there," Jamie said dismissively. The wheels in his head were turning. "There was a fire recently and they lost some things. As I hear, they're still doing inventory. It's possible we can move what we need and they won't even know it's gone."

Simon's eyes misted as he looked from his son to his sister. Another miracle was happening.

*~*

The others cleared out of the recovery room, making space for Michael, Genny, and Cole to come in and see Zoë. This space was big and filled with post-op patients still needing close monitoring. They wouldn't move Zoë to a private room for another few hours. The air was cold, dry, and smelled funny with a hint of mint. A nurse kept looking at Michael disapprovingly because he still had that dusty, fresh-from-the-rim aura about him, despite the fact that he'd showered and shaved since lunch.

Cole's feet stopped when he was half-way to the bed. His father had touched his shoulder when they crossed paths and Cole could still feel the weight of that connection. It was hard to finish the journey to Zoë's side. Being this close sent his thoughts into turmoil. Zoë had been begging him for months to join her. She'd been touring the core worlds, scoping out locations of this Ward that performed dangerous experiments on unsuspecting patients, and she'd been slowly gathering support and awareness for her cause. If he'd been there with her, would he have noticed her sick? Would he have been able to protect her from her attacker?

Genny squeezed his hand and nudged him encouragingly. She knew more of his secrets than he had the courage to tell. As much as she wanted to be by Zoë's side speaking her peace, she would let him go first – not crowd him by going together. Even Michael walked right past the bed, as though he were setting up a flank on the opposite side, so that he and Genny created a hedge of protection and privacy in the open space. Taking one breath to calm himself, Cole willed his feet to move again and came to Zoë's bedside.

Zoë's face was splotchy and bruised, and her lips were dry and cracked. She had a pile of bandages around her neck, some already spotted with blood where the wound had drained. When he took her hand, it was warmer than he thought it should be. Pressing Zoë's knuckles under his nose, he could smell the scented moisturizer their Mama always used, that had been transferred skin to skin when Mama had held Zoë's hand.

Bending at the hip, Cole rested his elbows on the side of the bed and leaned his face close to Zoë's.

"Hey, sis," he said softly, wondering if it was silly to talk. It wasn't like she was in a coma or dying. She'd wake up soon, and he'd say hello all over again. Still, he needed to continue, because she might be better and shipped off before they got a moment with just the two of them. "I finally get to see you."

He touched her face, ghosting over the bruises, wondering if she could have been spared any of them, if he'd come when she called.

"I know you've been wanting me to join you on your little campaign for awhile now, but you should know, this isn't really selling me on the idea," he joked. "We'll work on your P.R. skills. I think the letter writing was safer anyway."

He pressed her hand over his heart, wishing his family had one home to go to and not the four worlds and three vessels they'd been spread between. "Baba will want to take you home with him, but you can always … if you want … Sihnon has better hospitals."

Zoë would make a joke now. As prolific and poetic as her writing was, her conversations were always terse, her humor dry, and her sarcasm perfect. Now that some hun dan had slashed through her vocal cords, she'd have an excuse to be laconic, but she was stubborn enough to talk anyway. God had been trying to kill her since before Cole was born, but she put up a fight. Every time, every relapse, every gunshot or knife wound, she cheated death, and made everyone look the fool for worrying so hard.

"When you wake up, I owe you a smack upside the head," he told her, and he couldn't stop the tears spilling down his cheeks. "Don't ever ask Michael to say good-bye for you. Don't ever. That's how you close a will; not how you talk to your baby brother who's crossed half the galaxy to hear what could be your dying words."

Zoë's heart rate changed and a nurse came to check, intruding on the hot, grief and guilt-filled space that Cole was standing in. Cole backed away, letting the nurse work, and when he felt Genny's hand on his back, he turned to embrace her.

"She's waking," Michael said, his voice soft and happy. Smiling, Michael came next to the nurse and watched as Zoë blinked her eyes and turned her head. Genny let go of Cole and stepped closer too, but Cole held back. The nurse was working furtively and Zoë's chest heaved as she tried to force air past her vocal cords.

"Co –"

"Don't speak," Michael whispered soothingly.

Zoë's fingers moved, but didn't form any recognizable sign.

"Not Sunday yet. It's Thursday," Michael said. "How are you feeling?"

"Co – " Zoë gasped again.

"You're cold?" the Genny asked, reaching for the blanket at the foot of the bed and spreading it over Zoë.

Zoë shook her head and groaned. "Di di. Cole."

Cole's eyes went wide. Had she heard him talking?

"Cole, she's asking for you," Genny said, making a space for him by the bed.

Cole came quickly and took Zoë's hand. "Jie jie, if you keep talking, they'll sedate you," he warned.

Zoë tried to squeeze his hand, but her fingers barely twitched. "Sent you a box."

"I know," Cole said with a soft smile. Of all the things she could have said first, she'd said his name and asked about a yu ben de wedding present. "I've kinda been on my honeymoon. I'll open it when I get back to Sihnon."

Zoë's eyes scrunched shut and she looked pained, like she was swallowing her stitches. The nurse prepared a sedative, and Cole figured he should say something more to keep Zoë from talking, but Zoë spoke on top of him.

"Documents … it's why I was attacked… speak for me."

Cole's jaw dropped. "I don't know –"

"Sunday," she said insistently, crying from the pain. "Speak for me."

*~*


	8. Speaking Truth

PART 8 – Speaking Truth

Jamie hadn't meant to spend so much time with his parents, and he certainly hadn't intended to suggest a heist. It was strange having grown up with so much crime happening about him and then going to a core world and trying to play the part of an honest student. For some reason, people seemed to think that any medic with that kind of upbringing was involved with organ smuggling or experimenting on patients. If he managed to convince them that mostly it was just patching up burns, bullet holes, knife wounds, they assumed the payment was dishonest. Jamie kept to himself mostly. Being younger than his classmates didn't help, but in his mind, the sooner he finished school the better. He'd tested out of classes so that he could avoid the study groups and projects. He still showed up to lectures as a sign of respect to his professors. The MedAcad was on the cutting edge of medical science and the teachers were always dropping in tidbits of unpublished research that would never make it onto an exam.

Having lunch with his sister and his friends had been uplifting for him. On Serenity, he'd always had to fight to be alone and get space to himself, and he hadn't even realizes how lonely he'd become living alone on Osiris the last few years. All the stories his dad had told had made it seem like such a fairy tale place, but his dad had grown up differently and arrived to school with a different reputation than Jamie had and Jamie did not fit in that world. He didn't even know if he wanted to.

"Your turn," Emily said, handing Jamie the rubber ball. They'd been sitting in the hospital waiting room playing jacks for almost an hour now and Jamie was thinking on calling it quits because he was getting tired of retrieving the ball when Emily bounced it too hard and it went wild. Plus, the floor was chilling his bones, and it was cramped with all those hard plastic chairs bolted into place.

"I thought you said you've been practicing," Jamie teased.

Emily looked down the hall where her father was leaning back and talking softly to Genny. She was getting edgy again, about the thought of her Papa being taken. Shaking it off, she spread the jacks on the floor without so much as a glance at Jamie.

"I'm lulling you into a false sense of security so that when we play for money, I'll win more," she deadpanned, by way of excuse.

Jamie laughed and she gave him a bored, but challenging eyebrow raise.

"You're bluffing."

"Put your money where your mouth is and see," she said evenly.

Jamie thought he would burst with amusement, but he jutted his chin cockily and pulled 10 platinum from his pocket and handed Emily the rubber ball. Emily bounced the ball, but her eyes flickered toward her Papa again, and she didn't catch the ball.

"Money wasn't good enough," she mumbled, and retrieved the ball before it went too far.

"Maybe if you kept your eyes on the game and not your Papa," Jamie challenged and threw another 10 platinum next to the first. "Is this enough for you to get two jacks in one bounce."

Emily glared at him, glanced at the spread, dropped the ball, scooped all ten jacks, caught the ball, and raised her eyebrow at him. She collected her twenty platinum and tucked the money into her boot. Jamie's jaw went slack.

"See what happens when you focus," Jamie encouraged with a smile. "You got no reason to be so twitchy."

"Scared don't need a reason," she answered sulkily. "Talk to me again when both your parents are taken from you."

Her fears had been coming and going in waves all afternoon, sometimes intense to the point of panic and sometimes virtually invisible. Jamie didn't want to get into this conversation so he tossed another twenty on the table. "I want to see your hands move that fast again."

Emily twitched, like she was trying to force her worries to the back of her mind. She glanced at her dad again, then took a deep breath and focused. This time Emily collected the jacks, the money, and the ball in one scoop. She had been playing him for the last hour! That girl had lightning fast hands, excellent control, and fierce dedication to the art of bluffing.

"What if they've tricked us both?" she asked, her voice small and frightened, her fist clenching around the bill in her hand. "They'll take him –"

"Mei mei, let me explain this to you," Jamie said, collecting the jacks and putting them away. He wasn't sure where to start so he stalled by moving from the floor to one of the chairs and getting Emily to sit next to him. Jayne getting taken away was not an easy thing for him to think on, but he'd heard the others tell her not to worry and she'd gone deaf to them. "Do you remember what your Papa was like before he went into the hospital? He didn't eat, didn't sleep, didn't talk."

"He did –" she protested.

"No, mei mei. He didn't," Jamie said firmly. "Auntie 'Nara made you meals and Uncle Mal read you stories and put you to bed."

Emily wrapped her arms across her chest and stood up. "He was getting better," she said in certainty and denial. "He talked."

"He drank," Jamie corrected. "He got blind angry and tore apart the Infirmary. He broke my arm."

Jamie choked on his own words, cringing as he relived it all in his head. He couldn't even look at Jayne now without feeling the bone snap.

"That was an accident," Emily insisted, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper. "He didn't mean it."

"Which is exactly the point," Jamie said firmly and angrily. "I was a kid and if you're gonna break a kid's arm, you damn well better mean it."

Jamie cradled his arm against his chest and turned to face the corner, away from the prying eyes of those walking nearby. It was hard enough talking to Emily about this, and he needed to compose himself lest he take all his anger out on her. He wanted to explain things, not hurt her. Jayne probably didn't even remember what happened that day, and no one had the heart to tell him.

Emily leaned against him, hugging him from behind, and hooking her chin over his shoulder. She pressed her cheek against his, taking as much comfort as she was giving.

"It could have been you he hurt," Jamie said, sucking in air to dry his soul of tears. "It wasn't safe for him or for us. We had to get him help."

Emily nodded, not protesting anymore. "But he's better now. I know he don't talk much, but he tries."

Jamie was desperately clawing at his own calm, keeping his voice steady for her sake. They were almost through this moment. He could hold on a little longer and get her through this, and then they could talk about something else.

"This is why no one gets why you're so scared. He came all the way out here to see Zoë. You said you had lunch with him and my mom. They talked."

"Maybehaps me and Aunt Kaylee did most of the talking."

"He helped look for Aunt River," Jamie continued.

"Yeah."

"A man that can do all that doesn't need to be put away," Jamie explained. "That would just be a waste of money."

Jamie bit his lip, clinging to composure, praying that he'd said enough. Emily processed his words in her head and rocked slowly foot to foot, all the while hugging Jamie across the shoulders. He'd always been strong for her sake, and now she was trying to give him some comfort, because she sensed the cloud of hurt she'd kicked up.

"Why can't no one else explain this stuff to me?" she asked.

Jamie gave her the best 'you're pathetic' look he could muster. "Possible they've been saying it all day and you haven't been listening. I know for a fact that Genny told you while we were walking to lunch. Michael told you on the way back. Why didn't you believe either of them?"

Emily looked darkly into the past and shivered. "You weren't there when they took him."

"I had a broken arm, remember," Jamie said. "I was scared and hurt. I thought he'd never forgive me for letting your Mom die."

Jamie covered his mouth and sobbed uncontrollably at the confession. Jayne never would forgive him and he couldn't make it right. He didn't know what he could have done, but he was sure that one day he'd hear the right seminar or read the right paper or make the right breakthrough and he'd find out what he should have done that day. He vaguely heard Emily saying it wasn't his fault, which was what everyone said. It didn't matter if it was true.

*~*

There was so much tension in Michael that Mal thought sure he'd have an aneurism if he didn't get some peace. With Zoë through the worst of things, everyone should have been calming. Michael had seemed okay when he was napping in the observation lounge, and when he was talking to Little Zoë – anytime he was close to Cole – but there was no hiding the fresh, bright red scratches on his neck and face, as though the black eye River had given him wasn't enough. Michael was hearing something that haunted him, and it kept coming back.

Mal felt divided. On the one hand, he wanted to be there for his son, and on the other, he knew Michael needed to learn to handle things on his own. On the other hand – well, Mal was out of hands, so on the first foot – if Shadow hadn't gone black and Mal's momma hadn't died, and the forty ranch hands that had raised Mal like he was their own hadn't been burnt to dust by the Alliance … how different would his life had been if he'd had a home to go to after the war? How different would he have been, if he'd been able to walk out of Serenity Valley and into his momma's arms?

There was no sense in leaving Michael to deal with things alone. There was no sense in him thinking he couldn't come home if he needed. There was no sense in pretending he didn't have anyone to catch him if he fell.

Mal turned Michael's business card in his hand. The token was absolutely hilarious, and he figured it would be a good conversation starter for talking about work. His son had run outside again and was pacing circles around the grounds, and Mal figured he could wait on the bench by the rose garden for Michael to pass. The bench was old, wooden, and surprisingly comfortable, but maybe Mal was just tired. They'd done well with a small space, giving a little bit of green and private courtyard feel to the four feet between the bench and the street. It didn't take too long for Michael to come around.

Michael slowed when he saw Mal, and he came obediently to the bench when Mal motioned him over. For a moment, they both just sprawled, staring at the sky, which was over lit with city glow. Michael lolled his head to the side, watching Mal tiredly as Mal turned possible opening statements in his mind. He figured Michael had to watch his mouth, so he'd know when the conversation actually transitioned to verbal.

Mal looked at the card in his hands, thought about what needed saying, and when he finally opened his mouth, all tact abandoned him.

"I heard about Athens," he said. It was the worst of all possible starting places, but Michael didn't look away. Instead he looked surprised and guilty, like a tremendous sin had been uncovered.

"What?" Mal said. "I still have friends that run those circles."

Michael huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Acquaintances," Mal corrected, but Michael was still looking at him judgmentally, so he finally relented to "Very bribable enemies."

Michael sighed and looked at the sky again, his shoulders slumping dejectedly, like he expected to be called home to where people weren't trying to kill him so thoroughly. "Did you tell Mama?"

"I don't think she'd let you ship out again if she knew," Mal said. Mal didn't have the whole story on Athens, but he knew the first mate on Michael's ship had died. It was why Michael had been promoted so quickly after joining the crew. He had told Inara about the promotion.

Mal didn't want to take Michael from the Cadence. There was too much potential for him to develop the deep bonds of friendship that had kept Mal going all these years. The very fact that Berke brought Michael here personally and was coming back to get him spoke volumes. They'd walked out of Athens together and that wasn't nothing.

"I heard you fought well," Mal continued. "Kept your wits about you and got your crew out."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Mal fell silent and they both looked away from each other to the roses, the sky, their own fingernails … anything the keep from looking each other in the eye. Mal fingered the card in his hand and thought about the life it advertised. He didn't know how bad it got in there for Michael. He didn't know if it was Niska's Skyplex bad or Serenity Valley bad. Mal had been through a lot in life, and he still couldn't say if there was anything in the 'verse that helped get a man through those moments aside from alcohol, denial, or insanity – mostly insanity.

"It's different every time," Mal said, because it was. There was no one way to recover because there was no one thing that happened.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Michael said more firmly. He stood up and took a few steps away, but Mal crossed the distance. War stories were horrific and grotesque, but sometimes telling them made a difference.

"I want to know how you got free –"

Mal stopped suddenly when Michael turned and glared at him. If Mal didn't know better, he'd believe Michael's eyes flashed like fire. Then he felt something strong ripping through his head. Tensing with fear and surprise, Mal shielded himself like River had taught him how, and a moment later the pressure lifted. Michael looked aghast at the block and he panted fearfully.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered as the surprise on his face melted into horror at what he'd just tried to do.

"Son?"

Michael turned and walked away quickly, but Mal chased him. If he could survive the defenses, he could uncover the truth.

"Michael!"

"Don't make me hurt you," Michael warned firmly, his voice tight and pained.

"Don't walk away from me!" Mal shouted at him.

Suddenly, Michael turned and swung his fist as Mal's head. Mal side-stepped quickly. Michael swung again, but Mal blocked this time and caught Michael's fist. Then he yanked Michael off the path and pressed him against the nearest wall. Physically pinned, Michael tried another mental slam, and dazed by the force of it, Mal stumbled back.

"Talk to me, Michael," Mal begged, pressing forward through the fog, and pinning Michael to the wall again. His son was out of control, but Mal had opened this wound, and he would take the brunt of the pain.

"I hate it!" Michael shrieked and Mal had to fight to keep from clamping his hands over his ears. He had never heard his son scream so loud. Michael rarely made a sound he didn't have to, and it was like pulling teeth sometimes to get him to talk. Now it seemed like he was screaming and hollering and crying out for all the years he'd kept silent.

"I hate it! I hate it! I don't want to be like this!" Turning to face the wall, Michael shrieked and swore and pounded the bricks like getting through them was the only means of escape from the pain he felt. Mal winced and watched, trying to figure out how to get a hold on Michael and keep him from hurting himself. He groaned inwardly as Michaels' tantrum drew the attention of a peace officer.

"Is everything okay here?" the lawman asked, clearly trying to see if Mal was helping or harming Michael.

"Sorry, sir. Personal tragedy," Mal said curtly, nodding back toward the hospital entrance. "You understand."

Mal grabbed Michael by the elbows to keep him from pounding the walls and Michael struggled against him. With one final yell, Michael shook Mal off and then he went completely silent and still. It was eerie.

"Sir," the officer tried again, stepping closer to Michael. "Are you alright?"

Michael tensed, his muscles coiling like a tiger ready to pounce. His fingers opened and closed into fists. With a shaky breath, he reached quickly for his gun, but Mal moved like lightning, grabbing Michael's wrist and stopping him. Mal may not have been a reader, but he could see stupid, and pulling a gun on a lawman in a core world was about as stupid as it got. He didn't mind thinking it loudly enough for Michael to hear.

Turning his head, Michael's steel blue eyes locked onto Mal's, swimming in confusion, like he couldn't understand why he was about to lash out or why Mal had stopped him. He breathed in and out, slowly and intentionally, looking like a cornered animal, trying to decide what to do next.

The officer pressed in again, trying to come between their silent face off. "Sir, I need you to tell me if you need help."

Michael's jaw quivered and he looked at his wrist in Mal's hand like he was about to yank himself free and beat the officer away. Instead, very tentatively, he leaned forward and pressed his ear over Mal's heart. His hand fell gently against Mal's chest, his fingers tapping, and he looked skyward, like he was trying to break into a safe. Mal couldn't relax – couldn't embrace him – because there was no telling if Michael would lash out again.

"Sir?" the officer tried once more.

Michael was being frustratingly silent, but at least it wasn't out of character for him. After a few minutes, Michael stopped shaking, closed his eyes and sighed, and Mal relaxed enough to cradle one arm around his son. He couldn't help thinking that this was exactly what he would've done if he'd come back to his momma on Shadow after the war. He would've screamed 'til his ears bled and there wouldn't have been a damn thing his momma could've done or said to help. But it would've been enough, just to know that she heard him screaming.

"Sorry, officer," Mal finally said, when it became apparent that Michael had calmed and had no intention of speaking for himself. "We'll keep it down."

The officer looked wary, but after a few more minutes, lost any reason to stay. As soon as the officer left, Michael opened his eyes, backed away from his father, and leaned against the wall of the building, lightly massaging his sore knuckles. Mal wished Cole were here. Cole always knew the right things to say to Michael. If Mal believed in a divine plan for the 'verse, he'd believe that God never would've given him Michael until he'd set Zoë and Cole into place first.

Mal forced himself to be quiet, and forced his mind to be clear, waiting for Michael's voice to resurface. When the only sounds left were the crickets, he touched Michael's shoulder gently and the words fell out.

"I hate it," Michael breathed and shuddered.

"You can always come home," Mal offered. "There's plenty of other work to be had in the worlds."

Michael cringed and covered his ears looking ready to rip them off, which (Mal knew from experience) would not have been pleasant. "That's not even what I mean," he whimpered.

Carefully, Mal wove his hands under Michael's and pulled them away from his face. The pain radiated off of his skin, searing the night air. Michael pressed his back against the wall, exhausted and overburdened with the curse of being a reader. It was the part of his story he couldn't share with his crew and that would limit who he could trust with his life. He couldn't tell his new friends how to quiet their minds for his sake – he just had the grit his teeth and bear it.

"We were bound so tight we couldn't move," Michael said, his voice bitter and shaky, and Mal knew he was talking about getting abducted on Athens. "I had a blade in my boot and I couldn't even get to it. He made us watch…"

Michael covered his mouth with his knuckles and lost hold of his words. Mal understood. They'd seen the first mate get tortured and killed.

"There was no way out," Michael said, his voice quickening in desperation to justify his actions. "So I ... one of the night guards ... I took him and I made him cut me loose. But I couldn't shut him up. I couldn't. So I killed him with his own gun."

Mal nodded like he understood, but he didn't. Michael twitched desperately, knowing exactly what he meant, but unable to explain it to a non-reader. He raked his fingers through this hair, trying to tug the memories out by the root.

"You don't know what it's like when you take someone's mind, and you hear them screaming, like their soul will lose hold of their body if you push too hard," Michael said, sounding frightened. "A reader knows where he is – knows how to find himself again. A regular person … I didn't know he wouldn't come back from that. I didn't know it was so easy to split a man."

Michael looked at him, terrified, guilty, and desperate for absolution, but Mal was still looking for the sin. There was a time when all he had to do to calm Michael down was hold him in his arms, press Michael's ear over his heart, and let his own peace cover his son. Now, it simply wasn't enough.

"The man who took you," Mal said. "What would he have done to that night guard?"

"Worse than what you've been through," Michael said surely, furrowing his brow. "But you've never been in that place, when someone takes your mind. How can I know if what I did to him wasn't worse?"

"There's a difference," Mal explained. "You weren't doing it to be cruel. You had to get free, by whatever means necessary. You had to save your crew and you were the only one that had any power to do it. It was him or you."

Tears fell down his cheeks, and Mal watched them fall, powerless to even comprehend what his son struggled with.

"I hate it," Michael said again, this time quietly. "To rip out a man's soul – it shouldn't even be a choice."

*~*


	9. Exposing Brokenness

PART 9 – Exposing Brokenness

The cries raked through Jamie's soul so hot that he couldn't feel the world. He was vaguely aware of Emily hugging him and speaking soothes in his ear, and he felt the coolness on his skin when she pulled away.

"Papa!" Emily shouted.

Jamie tensed, scooted to the corner quickly, and hugged his knees, hiding his face long enough to dry his tears with his sleeve.

"This is our time," he warned quietly. "No secrets leave us."

Emily reached out and patted his head gently, pressing his face against her chest and dropping her voice. "You tell me the truth so I can hear. I can tell you the truth, but you won't hear it from me. Not about this." Then she shouted again, " Papa!"

"Yesu, girl! Keep your voice down," Jayne hollered, trotting over to them. "People will think you're dying."

Jayne knelt beside them, going quiet as he sensed the mood, and Jamie cringed again, fighting a shudder. He hadn't been this close to Jayne since he broke his arm and it was a hundred percent intentional. Too afraid to speak, he clung to Emily and searched for an excuse to leave. They must've looked like quite a pair, her being half his age and half his size, but keeping her arms wrapped protectively around him. He felt like such a coward.

Emily looked sternly at her father. "You need to tell Jamie that you're sorry."

"Come again?" Jayne asked. Jamie had the same reaction, but didn't speak it. He had no desire to converse with Jayne.

"You're sorry," Emily explained, "for breaking his arm and for scaring him and for letting him think that it's his fault Momma died."

"Tian sha de," Jayne swore, his voice shaking.

Hearing Emily say those things brought a fresh wave of grief and emotion, but Jamie bit his lip and held back.

"I know you don't like words," Emily said gently, patting her father's shoulder as if he were the child. "But you need to tell him so he believes it."

"I'm fine," Jamie finally managed, releasing Emily and looking squarely at Jayne. His stomach was knotting and he didn't have the strength to move, but he could muster enough of a glare to send Jayne away. He could finish this.

Jayne looked at him, lost and confused, like he wasn't quite sure why his prized bottle of scotch was shattered and spilled on the floor. "Emily, give us a moment."

Emily swallowed raggedly, looking from her father to Jamie. She cradled Jamie's face tenderly and said, "I'll stay if you want me to."

She was so sweet and filled with so much love. Shaking his head, he took her hands off his face and sent her away. He'd always been the invincible hero to her and he didn't want her to see him broken. More than anything, he wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, but he couldn't do that either. When she left, Jayne circled him a moment, then sat down in the chair next to him. Jamie turned his back and pulled his knees to his chest, bracing his arm against his chest as though it were broken again.

"Jamie."

"I know. It's not my fault," Jamie said coldly, looking firmly at his knees. His parents had made him repeat that phrase often enough that he could say it without feeling it.

Jayne stood up and for a moment, Jamie thought he'd won, but then Jayne came around so they were face to face. Squatting next to the chair, Jayne touched Jamie's arm as he tried to balance. When Jamie flinched, Jayne winced sympathetically.

"Would it make you feel better if you broke my arm?" Jayne asked.

Jamie made a face. He'd forgotten how irritatingly simple Jayne could be. "No."

"Good," Jayne said, looking somewhat relieved. "Sorry don't seem …"

He trailed off and looked over toward Emily. Then he squared his shoulders, bounced a little on his heels, and patted Jamie's arm. With a deep breath he tried again, speaking slowly, giving purpose to every word. "Sorry I broke your arm. Sorry I scared you. And it don't matter what you know now, I never should've let you believe for a second that you were to blame for Sky's death. Weren't no one's fault. If it were, I'd've found him and shot him by now."

"Chuiniu. You broke my arm," Jamie pointed out, his voice quaking. He could still hear Jayne tearing about and screaming that someone had to be to blame. It haunted him so, because it came right before the sound of cracking bone. "Seemed to send a similar message."

"Then I spoke out of turn," Jayne said simply. "There's nothing you did to cause her harm and there was nothing you could've done to save her."

Jamie blinked, sending a fresh cascade a tears running down his cheek. He felt so helpless. Jayne wasn't asking him to set things right. He was saying that everything Jamie had done at the time was as right as he could have been.

"Boy, I love you like you were my own son," Jayne said, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't come out all this way expecting to find you broken, but if I can patch you up somehow ... I can't undo it. Forgive me if you can."

He didn't deserve it. Jamie couldn't think through the hurt and he'd lost sense on what was truth and what was mercy in Jayne's words. He couldn't forgive or be forgiven.

"Kao," Jamie whispered, too confused to think. "Please go."

Jayne watched him a moment longer, then took his hand off Jamie's arm. With a grunt, he switched from squatting to sitting on the floor, and he leaned his back against the chair Jamie was sitting in. "You always did like being alone with your thoughts. But it seems your thoughts are lying to you on this subject. How about I just sit quiet 'til you have something to say."

Jamie shuddered and felt his arm breaking all over again. He saw the rage, and then he saw the peaceful man sitting quietly next to him. There was no threat and no blame. Jayne looked up at him, his eyes filled with guilt and remorse.

"You sure you don't want to break my arm?"

*~*

The skin on Michael's knuckles was raw from pounding at the building, and his face throbbed from getting smacked by River earlier. He'd helped River develop that defense after she got possessed by that crazy Frankenstein man who killed readers, but it was a lot more forceful than he remembered it being. Now that he'd gone up against his father's mental shields, he understood why. It was difficult to induce physical side-effects from a psychic interaction, and it was those things that made being a reader both dangerous and scary. He was glad, though – glad his father knew it was a curse and not a gift. They'd come inside, and Baba had told him to wait in the hall, because he had to get Zoë, and Michael paced.

There was something else lingering in the back of Michael's mind that he couldn't quite put a finger on. It was the same sense he'd gotten from River, but it kept moving about like an apparition. It was close and it drew him to her room.

He hated the feeling that someone else was whispering suggestions to him and making him go places he didn't want – especially knowing the Ward was here on the seventh floor. But unless someone was cheating his eyes, he was only going to the same room where all his family had been going the whole evening. In the event that someone was cheating his eyes, he had bigger worries than a lingering apparition. Aunt River had told him about that time she was possessed and they'd both worked hard to make themselves invulnerable to that kind of attack.

Suddenly getting chills, Michael stopped outside of Aunt River's door and rubbed his arms. He could still feel. Reaching down, he grazed his fingers over the butt of his gun. He wished Cole were here.

Steeling his nerves, Michael leaned sideways and cracked the door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yes," River answered. "But no."

Michael recognized the second answer as a mind thing, so he made a conscious effort to stay out of River's head. It was a hard thing to do when he was looking right at her, but when he entered, he wasn't looking at her at all. Uncle Simon and Aunt Kaylee were cuddled up on the bed, sleeping, barely fitting in the small space, but stable since they had years of practice. River sat on the floor next to the bed, drawing on a legal pad that someone must have acquired for her. She was a good artist and it always soothed her to draw.

Michael looked nervously from River to Simon and Kaylee. "You didn't … make them fall asleep, did you?"

River eyed him quizzically. "Is that something you can do?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Michael remembered that that was trick he hadn't tried until after they parted ways. "On occasion."

"That's not nice," River said disapprovingly. He wondered how she kept such a firm moral boundary, given her history.

Michael shrugged. "If it's someone you'd knock out with a blow to the head anyway, I don't see there's much difference. You told Uncle Jayne once you could kill him with your brain."

"Wasn't serious."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't know that," Michael laughed. It was a threat he'd wanted to use a hundred times, but the secret was too closely guarded. Michael could knock people out using only his mind, one in every twenty tries. Killing them was just the next step. If knocking out that night guard on Athens had been an option – if he'd been able to move at all…

"I'm sorry I hit you," River said.

"I was meddling," Michael said distractedly. He could hear the apparition again.

"You were concerned," she said simply. "You were right. And nothing justifies violence against –"

She stopped talking and looked at Michael. "You can hear her, can't you?"

Michael nodded and cocked his head, trying to source the sound, wishing mental ears localized things as well as physical ones. There was something calming about the apparition that made him want to listen, like a Siren's song.

River reached out her hands and Michael pulled her to her feet. She tottered unsteadily, and he held her at the elbows until she stabilized. He decided he had to focus on what was real, and that was Aunt River. She needed him to hold her steady, and he needed to get the others out of her bed so she could lie down.

"She lingers like a new reader," Michael told her. "She thinks she's dying."

It was the same sense – the same thought that had leaked in when River drove him away before. Was he reading the voice through River? Was this another one of those resurfaced memories come to haunt her?

"You read her more clearly than I do," River said mournfully.

"Does that surprise you?" Michael often wondered if there were different levels of psychic intuition or if the Alliance had damaged River's abilities by cutting into her brain. "She's curled up some place safe. I can't tell where. She's so fleeting."

"Michael," River said with a patronizing chuckle. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. "She's right here."

Michael's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.

*~*

Mal walked down the hall next to Zoë's bed as they rolled her from recovery into her own room, which technically she would be sharing with River if the Doc decided River needed overnight staying. Mal kept making faces at Little Zoë, because she had her eyes open and it was more fun making her giggle than filling the time with one-sided conversation. Simon had threatened to paralyze her vocal cords if she made another sound, but she'd said her words to Cole and didn't seem keen on forcing anything beyond that. As if Michael and Zoë hadn't been enough on his plate, now Cole worried him some. Mal had heard through the grape vine (i.e., Genny) about Zoë's request, and Cole had been off brooding by himself ever since.

Zoë reached out and poked his nose. Her fingers twitched slightly like she was trying to pinch it. Mal took her hand and pressed it over his heart. She seemed to have lost some dexterity in her hands, which was why she'd tried talking instead of signing. It hurt his heart thinking about it. Between all the writing and gunplay, Zoë was always using her fingers. Simon said that once they shrank the tumor on her spine, she'd be okay again. Knowing didn't help any, because it still meant she couldn't talk to them now.

Zoë opened her hand and her thumb went to her chin – the sign for Mama. That one was easy enough for her gimped hands. Mal followed Zoë's gaze and smiled too as Inara trotted to catch up with them. She looked clean and refreshed, like she'd gotten a little sleep. When Inara came up beside him, he couldn't help himself. His feet stopped, his eyes closed, and he leaned in to kiss her lips.

"How is everyone?" she asked socially, reaching down and caressing Zoë's face. When they got to Zoë's room, Mal checked to make sure Michael was inside, then he let the nurse wheel the bed in and he pulled Inara aside for a quiet chat.

"Cole is looking a little down," Mal said, and then he updated Inara on Zoë's mission for their son. Inara leaned against him as she listened. They all knew that Cole had been resisting Zoë's invitations, but the mere fact that she'd forced the words after her surgery would weigh on him. If the hospital had a weight room, Cole would be in there right now, bench pressing until he sweated his thoughts out through his skin. "Do you think we can talk Jayne into one of their infamous arm-wrestling matches?"

"Jayne might not be available," Inara said. "I saw him talking to Jamie."

Mal inhaled sharply and groaned. Jamie and Jayne had a lot of hurt to patch up between them. Jamie didn't even say 'Uncle' anymore; he just called him Jayne. "Maybe I should do some mediating."

"You worry about your own son for now," Inara said assuredly. She radiated peace and he loved her for it.

"I am worried. That's why I suggested the arm-wrestling."

Inara smiled and patted his arm. "I'm sure Cole would much rather wrestle you."

"No," Mal said, ducking his head bashfully, partly worried by the notion that his son could beat him without a fight. "That was their thing – him and Jayne."

"Not originally," Inara said and he looked at her quizzically. "You don't remember? From the time he was three years old, every day before lunch, you'd call him to the table. He'd be standing on that chair pulling your one arm with both of his, and he'd say "I'm gonna beat you today, Baba." I don't know why you never let him win. Then when you broke your hand, he called on Jayne because he needed to keep his strength up for when you got better."

"Really?" Mal asked, breathing softly. He had no memory of that, but now that she mentioned it, he did remember a day, after Zoë had run away and he'd broken his hand a second time, Cole came in, rested his cheek on Mal's shoulder, and asked 'How come you don't want to play with me anymore, Baba?' It broke his heart at the time, because he knew he'd been neglectful on account of the search for Zoë. In retrospect, it seemed Cole had been searching for something much simpler. Mal's throat closed up, and he cleared it loudly, fighting back emotion.

"I was always jealous of him and Jayne having that time together," he confessed to Inara. "You're saying that all this time, he's been waiting for me to call him back."

Inara smiled encouragingly. "It's not too late."

*~*


	10. Starting to Heal

PART 10 – Starting to heal

Genny smiled as she took Emily by the hand and led her down the hall, explaining the time-honored, super-secret gathering that only Serenity's women were a part of. Jamie must have said something to Emily, else she'd be putting up a hissy fit about being far from her Papa, but Genny had found her by the snack machines alone, and took that as invitation. She wasn't sure she was allowed to bring Emily into the meetings, but this was an emergency.

"Normally, I'd wait until you're a woman to tell you these things, but we're all going to our own worlds soon, and it's important that I tell you in person," Genny explained as they entered River's and Zoë's room. "We are the women of Serenity, and it's vital that we stick together because sometimes men do stupid things and when they do, you need your girls to be there for you."

Emily swelled with pride and belonging, but it clouded pretty quickly. "What if there's nothing you can do to help?"

"It's not about doing," River said, standing by the window, looking out. It was she who had called them all with the S.O.S. – man trouble. Sometimes these meeting involved complaining or crying or hair pulling. Sometimes they involved wine and pedicures, because not every trouble could be spoken out loud.

"All you need to do is listen and care," Inara explained. She and Kaylee were standing by Zoë's bed.

"Zoë's fading on us," Kaylee said. "River, can we skip to the good news?"

"Since when does an S.O.S include good news?" Inara asked.

"I can explain," River said, taking a deep breath. She leaned against the wall and looked at the group of them gathered. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her mouth twitched like she couldn't decide how she felt. "I might be a little … free-spirited for awhile, because I won't be on meds, because … I'm pregnant."

Inara gasped and covered her mouth. "I thought –"

"So did everyone," Kaylee said with a cheery smile. She'd known for hours already.

Zoë clapped her hands and smiled so tight tears came out, but she reined back her emotions as the pain took hold.

Emily punched her fist in the air and whooped. "Yes! I won't be the baby anymore!"

"Oh! Oh! That's what that face meant! Oh, I'm so glad I captured it." Genny squealed, her hand fluttering over her mouth, trying to contain her excitement. She reached quickly into her purse, pulled out her capture and scooted next to River. "Look! This was the face Dad made when Mom told him."

"Oh, you sneak!" Kaylee cried, crowding around to see.

"I had it out," Genny said defensively. "Didn't you see Michael under the coats?"

Genny scrolled to the picture of Michael sleeping under the pile of everyone's coats and they all laughed.

"And we've lost Zoë again," Inara announced, dropping Zoë's hand so she could come over and see the pictures too. They cheered and congratulated River, none of them wanting to break the aura of happiness and ask about the bad news.

Then Emily tugged sullenly on River's elbow. "How sick will you get?"

With Emily, everything centered around that fear – that someone else would get sick and die and she'd lose her dad again.

River wrapped her arm around Emily sympathetically. "Don't worry so much. Where do you get all this worry? Your Momma never worried like that. She laughed in the face of death."

"She did," Kaylee agreed, more creeped out than cheered by the memory. "It was really eerie."

Emily's face scrunched up again. Breaking away from River, she walked to Inara and clung desperately to the woman who had become her surrogate mother over the past few years.

"I don't want to go home," she confessed to Inara. She ducked her head and bit her lip. "I don't want to live in that house. Momma's not there. She can never be there. She would never have wanted to live in that house."

Inara embraced Emily and the other ladies gathered around, each laying a comforting hand.

"You could come to Sihnon with me and Cole," Genny offered, running her fingers through Emily's hair.

"I got a place by the beach," Kaylee tried.

Emily sucked in some air and wiped her face, even though no tears had fallen. "I can't leave Papa," she said. "I just wish we lived on a space ship again. We were all together."

"Sweetie, there's not one among us that doesn't miss living vessel-side," Inara said compassionately, caressing Emily's cheek soothingly.

"Huh," Kaylee murmured. "That is something. How'd we end up land locked?"

"I didn't," River said. "Zoë didn't."

"The ship broke," Inara shrugged. "The Captain retired. The rest of us needed a break."

Genny and Kaylee exchanged a look.

"I'd make a great Captain," Genny said thoughtfully. "Ain't nothing I touch that I don't try to take charge of."

"Is Cole into that?" Kaylee teased.

"Not a lick," Genny retorted without missing a beat. "That's what makes him fun."

"Is that a sex reference?" Emily asked, when the others smothered snickers.

"I'll explain when you're older," Inara laughed.

Emily sighed loudly. "Momma would've told me."

"I happen to know a decent mechanic and good pilot," Genny continued, looking around the room.

"Decent?" Kaylee repeated, in mock offense.

"Does anyone still have Michael's card?"

*~*

Mal beamed with joy as he strode into the cafeteria to meet his son. The room smelled of dirty mop water and strong sanitizers, and the food was unremarkable and bland enough not to leave a scent at all. It was a bright space, filled with long tables, and empty since it was well after dinner hour. Cole sat alone, drawing rings on the table with the stirrer of his long cold coffee. He looked up when Mal approached and managed to keep the hopeful smile off his face, but not out of his eyes. When Mal sat across from him and wordlessly set his elbow on the table inviting the arm wrestling match, Cole's lips parted in surprise. He looked at his father, then at his hand, like he couldn't decide how he felt about the challenge. Eventually, he just shook his head, placed his elbow on the table and clasped Mal's hand.

There was no spoken word between them before the match began. Mal found he wasn't straining too hard to keep from knocking Cole's hand over. It was fun sitting there, looking at his boy – now a man – having purpose in being connected without the need for words. He couldn't believe he hadn't done this sooner. Mal pushed a little harder and Cole matched the push, keeping their hands pointed skyward.

"I'll go easy," Cole said, loosening his grip, and maintaining the force with his open palm. "Don't want to risk breaking your hand again."

"You didn't break it the first time," Mal said evenly. His son was toying with him and he found that annoying.

"You never gave me a chance," Cole said icily, closing his fingers again and closing his grip.

Anger! Where did that come from? He'd always had a good relationship with Cole. At least he thought he did.

"I'm giving you one now. Jamie fixed that bone up hard as steel, so…" Mal grunted rather than finishing the sentence as Cole pushed him a little harder and he had to start putting effort into the match. "Mama says you're working for the Guild."

"You said I couldn't be a Shepherd," Cole replied. He wasn't even straining yet. "You never said anything about being a Companion."

It had been their joke for years, whenever Cole mentioned an outlandish career, he'd qualify it with that bit about not being a Shepherd. Sometimes Mal wondered if he really did want to be a Shepherd … but not the celibate kind, since he was married.

"Don't know why I have to hear it from her is all," Mal said. Come to think of it, most of what he knew about Cole came through Inara.

"You can't shame me out of the Guild," Cole growled. This time he pushed and Mal lost ground. Digging his feet into the floor and elbow into the table, Mal found some leverage to push back. They'd started off so well, but now he was confused. It reminded him of the first year he'd known Inara and he never said one thing right the whole time.

"Never reckoned I could. You always did take after your Mama."

Mal smiled. Cole didn't. If anything he looked more upset.

"What did you expect me to do?" Cole carped bitterly. "Take up gun slinging?"

"May not be as respectable, but there's honor in it," Mal said. He was losing ground in this fight.

"There's honor in what I do as well."

"I didn't say there wasn't," Mal cried defensively. "I'm sure what you do is perfectly respectable."

"Glad I could make you proud," Cole said sarcastically, emphasizing the last word by winning the fight and slamming Mal's hand against the table. Mal was shocked as much by Cole's burst of strength as by the anger radiating between them, and he stared dumbly as Cole got up from the table. His hand was bruised, but it would heal on its own. Cole was another story.

"Hold on now!" Mal cried, jumping to his feet and grabbing Cole by the elbow.

"Why is everyone trying to change me? Zoë's forcing this mission on me. You're …" Cole lost wind for his argument, paced in a circle, and raked his fingers through his hair. As much as Zoë's request may have stirred something, Mal's intuition told him he wasn't entirely free of blame. Mal had stopped speaking ill of the Guild since Inara said she'd stay on Serenity to help raise Little Zoë. If Cole sensed any disapproval from him, then something was speaking louder than his own silence.

"This isn't a cry for attention," Cole said coldly, shaking his arm free. "This is the path I've chosen. Deal with it."

"There seems to be a misunderstanding between us," Mal said, his voice getting low and serious as he crowded close to Cole. "I got some truth to tell and it's important enough that I'll say it 'til you hear me. There is nothing I see in you that I'm not proud of. Do you know that?"

Cole wrinkled his nose in disbelief and turned away bitterly.

"Son, look at me," Mal urged. When Cole didn't turn, Mal walked around him and craned his neck to get in Cole's face. "I'm proud of you. I am. If you need to hear it more often, send me a wave. I'll tell you every day. If I'm not there, anyone within two miles of the house has heard me boasting about you. Some of 'em will run off in the other direction when they see me, they're so tired of hearing it."

Cole finally looked at him, his eyes swimming in confusion. "You don't know anything."

"Then tell me," Mal said emphatically, cupping his son's face in his hands. "I could use some new material. Like I said, people run off."

Cole chuckled and then looked angry at himself for doing it.

"I got no qualm with the Guild," Mal continued, searching for words that he'd never said out loud and figured he should probably repeat to Inara later in case she needed to hear this too. "Don't much like their business, but they look after their own and I can respect that. Were it not for them, your Mama would've been lost to us years ago."

"I know," Cole said. "Because that's what I do. I look after the ones that get hurt or lost."

Mal stared a moment, breathless in surprise. He really had no idea what his son had been up to, but it didn't change the facts. "I'm proud of you."

"You said that."

Mal waited a moment in silence, then went back to the table and presented his arm for another match. Cole shifted foot to foot fighting with himself, but eventually he sighed and sat down too.

"I'll beat you this time, son," Mal promised.

*~*

Jayne never knew how to talk to Jamie when the boy was stressed. Jamie was too much like Simon and Jayne always said the wrong things. Any of the other kids were fine if Jayne came to their rescue, but Jamie always wanted his dad. No matter what danger he pulled Jamie from, it was never safe until he did that last step – carried him to the Infirmary and let the Doc say he was okay. He didn't remember too well breaking Jamie's arm, but he believed it happened because of the way Jamie had flinched when he touched him.

It hurt him to know he'd done so much damage to someone he loved so much. And he was sure this could have been made right if he'd come to his senses and carried Jamie to his dad right when it happened. It was too late now. Time had left an ugly scar and there was nothing Jayne could do or give to Jamie that would make a bit of difference. He wasn't even sure he should be sitting there. Jamie always spoke his mind and if he'd been glad at all for Jayne not leaving him alone, he would've at least mumbled a thank you. All Jayne got for the first ten minutes was silence.

"Liu koushui de biaozi he hou zi de ben erzi." Jamie finally muttered.

Jayne chuckled even though he knew he probably shouldn't. "It's good to know all that schooling ain't cut into your swearing any."

Jamie huffed angrily. "I think you're a bad man."

Jayne nodded, hating that he'd fallen so far from favor, but accepting it just the same. "I think you're not wrong."

Jamie picked at his fingernails and twitched tensely, like he expected Jayne to hit him at any moment. "You've seen a hundred men die, and a good deal of 'em by your own hand. You've lost friends in a firefight. You lost your Mom and your brother. You always worked it out. Why was this time different?"

That was a good question. The kid was too reasonable, and if reason ruled the 'verse, maybe Jayne would have an answer. Jayne had never found any reason in Sky dying.

"Have you ever loved a woman?" he asked Jamie.

"No."

"A man?" Jayne checked.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "No, I prefer women. I just haven't been looking for one."

"I never looked either," Jayne said reflectively. He turned away from Jamie because Jamie had judgment radiating off his skin, and it made it too hard to talk when they were facing. "Sky fell into my life that day she picked my pocket and broke the Captain's hand when he tried to stop her."

"I know the story," Jamie interrupted.

Jayne pressed his lips together in frustration. "It's worth looking. If I'd known what joy she would bring to my life, I would've started looking a lot sooner."

He hadn't intended this to be a sage lesson, and Jamie didn't look to keen on learning at the moment. Jayne had fallen hard for Sky, but it was okay, because she'd caught him. He didn't realize that she was still holding him up until she was gone. Then he fell the rest of the way, hit rock bottom, and shattered into a million pieces.

"But you lost her," Jamie whispered, his voice low and hoarse. "Then you lost your mind."

Jayne nodded guiltily, knowing he'd lost more than his mind in the aftermath. "Not everyone loses."

With a shiver of revulsion, Jamie shook his head in disgust and cradled his arm, and Jayne looked at him closely. It didn't make sense for a kid like Jamie – someone who had grown up around so much love – not to be looking for love. He hoped he hadn't scared the kid into solitude.

"I am a monster," Jayne said. "I'm a goddamned bastard. You are nothing like me. Don't let me being stupid stop you from looking."

"It's not," Jamie said icily, balling his hands into fists and forcing himself not to cower so much. "Believe it or not, the galaxy does not revolve around you."

"That's good," Jayne said, leaning back against the chair, and resolving to sit quietly again. "I've lost some weight and that tends to muck up the orbits."

Jayne kept his back to Jamie, letting the curtain of silence separate them. Simon walked by and eyed them critically, then summoned Jamie with a word. Jamie fled gratefully, but surprisingly, he paused before he rounded the corner.

"My transport leaves at midnight," Jamie said, talking more to the floor than to Jayne. The boy took a deep breath and his eyes flickered up, then back to the floor. "Will you be there?"

Jayne could barely get out a 'yes' before he got too choked up to speak.

*~*


	11. Back on Their Feet

PART 11 – Back on their feet

Cole felt calmer as soon as he'd talked to his father. Maybe he should call more often. Maybe he could open a three-way comm link with Uncle Jayne and Baba and they could all have lunch together. Maybe then Uncle Jayne would have more to say … not that Cole minded the quiet company.

Wrapping his arms across his chest, Cole took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders backward, stretching his back. His arm was sore and bruised from wrestling and after twenty matches, he'd declared that he and Baba had done enough catching up for one day. Cole wasn't sure if he'd lost the last five matches because his father was stronger than he'd let on at first and had been playing him, or because his father simply had more endurance. It was probably the latter. Uncle Jayne always said Baba was completely off his nut and could keep strength through anything. There was the story of when Baba lost his ear – a man had killed him, but Baba came back to life, got up off the table, and tried to kill him right back. Baba always blamed his lack of success in that he'd died that morning and was still a little woozy.

Baba had lots of wisdom to share with regards to taking on Zoë's mission. It helped, talking to him, because he'd pointed out that Zoë had only asked Cole to get one box from Sihnon and speak in one place on Sunday. That made it significantly less overwhelming than the burden Cole had been feeling, because he'd lumped the request with Zoë's open invitation to join her on the campaign. He didn't have to give up his life to grant his sister's request. Still, he'd feel remiss if he didn't consider it. She needed his help, now more than ever. She'd been asking for it.

He kicked himself for all the times he thought he was just a name on the check list in this family, because every moment here at the hospital had been a revelation. His little brother kept coming to him and leaning on him. His sister had called out to him first, before anyone else. His father had been so glad to just sit and talk with him. Jamie had practically flattened him! They'd gathered because Zoë was sick, but they'd all needed healing.

The door to the cafeteria clattered and Cole looked up to see who had come to cheer him now. It was his wife. He smiled happily, unable to help himself, but he also twiddled his thumbs nervously, wondering what she thought about him taking on Zoë's campaign. They hadn't talked on the matter since before he proposed – before they got swept away in the wedding madness – and she'd never been anything but encouraging. Now that they were signed to have and to hold, the decision affected her as well.

She strode purposefully across the room, sat across from him, and folded her hands, looking serious and contemplative. Cole placed his hands over hers, hoping he could get the first word in. Genny was a force of nature and if she spoke first, there was no telling if he'd even know his own mind afterward.

"I love Sihnon," he said with a wistful smile, thinking of their home. "I love living there; I love working there. I love the feel of the towns and the richness of the culture, and I never want to leave. But at the same time, I feel like I'm sitting there waiting to find my true calling – waiting to be called."

He looked at their joint hands, and then he looked at Genny. He'd asked his boss about going to rendezvous with Zoë once and the Guild had been trying ever since to get him off Sihnon and into the field, but he'd resisted. He loved living there so much.

"Now, with Zoë –" he started, but couldn't finish the sentence. "I know my calling is to speak for those who have no voice of their own – for all the readers who would be in danger if they spoke on their own behalf. I've been called. I have to go and not just to this one place on Sunday. I have to keep going until I get God's hand in my face telling me to stop."

Genny nodded her head thoughtfully, and let the silence hover between them for a few minutes, waiting to see if he had anything else to add, before she decided what he really thought and explained it to him.

"That was beautiful," she dead-panned, like she'd been judging his diction and not weighing his words. Cole chuckled, waiting for a real opinion to emerge, but she continued with the sarcasm. "Very eloquent. Did you come up with that on the fly?"

"I'll understand if you don't want to come with me," Cole said, pushing the subject again, glad when Genny looked at him immediately like he was an idiot for suggesting such a thing.

"Cole, I didn't marry you so that we could go separate ways, and I didn't sit here to talk about this quest that Zoë is sending you on, because I think you are the only one in the 'verse who thought you had any choice about whether or not you'd actually do this for her," she said patronizingly. Cole started to feel offended, but then Genny touched his cheek lovingly and changed her tone. "And I don't want you to think this proposition has anything to do with that bit of poetry you just recited."

Their eyes met and, for a moment, their souls connected. Then Genny said very firmly, "I want to buy a space ship."

Cole's eyes bugged out and his jaw went slack.

"I miss living vessel-side and I think I'd be a good Captain," she explained simply. With Genny it was always simple and clear cut. It was frustrating for Cole, because in her mind living on a ship was as straightforward as declaring that she wanted it, and finding out how to make it work was up to him. But then, the Guild had been trying to get him to do ambassadorial work, so it was possible they could get a ship without even having to buy one. Would they let Genny captain it, though?

"You wouldn't happen to have a place on your ship for a lonesome traveler on a quest to speak for his sister and bring down the evil…"

Cole lost his words in a fluster when he felt Genny's hand snaking up his thigh. She was devious for a force of nature.

"I would like a cabin boy," she teased, licking her lips lustily.

Growling softly with pleasure, Cole pulled her onto his lap, and kissed her playfully. He could match her tease and make her sorry she'd started this in such a public place. He'd had Uncle Jayne's crash course and she hadn't. Nipping along her jaw line, he said, "Why wait for a cabin? There's still a few positions on that post-card we haven't tried."

"Did Uncle Jayne give you a new one, because I'm sure we've tried everything on the original at least twice over," Genny said excitedly, giggling as Cole snaked his hand around her waist and led her toward that supply closet he'd been hiding in earlier.

Cole laughed hotly against the skin on her neck. "That's only if you're holding it right-side up."

*~*

Jamie had a long-standing fear of Jayne that no one seemed to acknowledge, and everyone's denial of it perturbed Simon to no end. Jamie hadn't been strong enough to fight back when Jayne had attacked him, and while Simon could patch a broken bone, he couldn't help his son un-hear the accusations that Jayne had hurled at him. Simon always figured he'd be there, mediating, when Jamie finally got the courage to sit next to Jayne and talk. Jayne didn't seem to notice or care that he was crowding Jamie by sitting next to him. It may have been good that they'd talked, but the look in Jamie's eyes said that he'd said all he wanted and now he wanted to be alone. Jamie needed space, and even if Jayne was just sitting there quietly, he was taking up too much.

Simon led the way down the hall toward the medicine stores. He didn't speak and Jamie didn't ask where they were going, because he knew the answer was simple. They were going away to a private place where Jamie could think in peace. Sitting next to Jamie in a lounge would've been crowding, just like Jayne was doing. But as long as Simon had his focus on other work, they could find that space together, and Simon could keep anyone else from trying to be helpful and crowding in around his son.

Perhaps most surprising was that Jamie had asked Jayne to come see him off at the space port. It gave him hope that whatever was said between the two of them was leading toward a breakthrough and not a standoff. Simon didn't regret pulling Jamie away from the situation, though. Jamie spoke his mind on things like that, and if he'd wanted to stay, he would've said so.

When they got to the medicine storage room, Simon scanned the inventory sheet, trying to locate the dubrycylin that Jamie had suggested for River. His son paced the room once, and then found a step stool and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and staring furtively at his fingers. For about fifteen minutes, Simon worked in silence, reading up on the drug interactions. Then Jamie spoke.

"There's nothing I can do to save her," he said softly. "There's nothing I could have done."

That was it. He'd finally processed the truth Simon had been telling him for years. He could almost see the weight lifted from his son's shoulders as he shed that burden. They exchange a look, but Jamie didn't need a long conversation or any more assurance, so Simon handed him the journal he was reading and changed the subject.

"I can't give her the dubrycylon until the kytazine is out of her system."

Jamie skimmed the journal – or perhaps he was speed reading – and then he checked the inventory sheet for the store room. Orienting himself quickly, he went to one of the shelves in the back and pulled out a vial of pink liquid.

"Add half a cc of this to the mix and she'll be fine."

Simon scanned the vial's code into his hand held, reading up on the drug Jamie had given him, then he handed it back. "This will react with the caphallin. She'll have renal failure within a week."

"Na mei guan xi. She's not on caphallin," Jamie said.

"She was six years ago," Simon explained. "That stuff never leaves the kidneys."

"I didn't know that. Zao gao. Then, yeah, we have to wait," Jamie said, furrowing his brow and scanning the inventory list for the store room again. "You should write papers, you know."

It was true. Simon had tested more drugs on River than were legal on most worlds, but he couldn't share any of his wisdom without exposing her. With a sigh, they both looked around the room, palmed a few vials of various meds that River might need, and headed out.

*~*

Simon smiled as he and Jamie entered Little Zoë's room, which was so crowded that one of the hospital orderlies was arguing vehemently with Kaylee on the fact that they were a fire hazard. His body was weary and aching to the point where soon even his cane wouldn't help him stay on his feet. Promising he'd handle the crowd, Simon dismissed the orderly and leaned heavily on the door frame. Kaylee kissed his cheek and laughed against his skin, tired, but happy (or perhaps delirious from weariness). Inara and Emily were standing by Little Zoë's bed, chatting amicably. River lay on the floor, curled into a ball, with her head resting on Michael's lap. Simon had already determined that there was no point in River sleeping here tonight. Michael had his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed. By the way he kept pressing his fingers against his temple and ghosting them past his ear, Simon guessed he was resisting the urge to turn off his hearing aid and tune them out.

"My patients need to rest," Simon said loudly, weaving between the ladies so he could examine Zoë.

"All she's done is sleep," Kaylee quipped. "She don't mind us."

Simon sighed, feeling a bit of relief. Zoë looked better already. There weren't any noticeable complications from the surgery and her vitals were stable. They'd probably be able to move her home before they started the next treatment. When he looked up, he noticed everyone was watching him, waiting for his verdict on Zoë. "She's resting. The rest of us need rest as well. I heard a rumor that someone reserved a block of hotel rooms for us."

"Three blocks east," Michael spoke up, pointing with his hand, but not opening his eyes. "There's little spa jets in the tub and plenty of hot water. Highly recommended."

"Anyone wanting to see Cole and Genny off – their transport leaves in an hour," Inara added.

"And Jamie," Simon said. "He leaves at midnight."

"So soon?" Emily asked, turning her puppy eyes on Jamie as if that could change his mind.

"I have school to finish," Jamie said with a smile.

Kaylee ruffled Emily's hair consolingly. "We can squeeze in a quick dinner and talk about this heist we got planned."

"Heist?" Michael repeated, opening his eyes, his interest piqued. Nudging River awake, he carefully got out from under her and jumped to his feet. "Any work for my crew in that heist?"

Simon looked back toward the hall and closed the door. "Maybe we shouldn't be discussing this in the open air."

"Why not?" River asked. She was still lying on the floor, pillowing her head with one hand. "We're a crime family."

The others laughed.

Simon knelt next to River and took her hands, hoping to coax her to his feet. His leg was throbbing so intensely now that his toes curled from the tension. He was surprised to feel a gentle tap on his shoulder. Michael came behind him, hooked his arms under Simon's shoulders, and hauled him back onto his feet. Then, with a few gentle words and a pinch on her nose, he got River on her feet as well.

"If you need me," Michael said seriously, presenting a business card to Simon. "I'm very good at my job and I never miss."

*~*

It was quiet and peaceful in Zoë's hospital room, and Michael hadn't even had to turn off his hearing aid. Zoë had inclined her bed so she could sit up, and Michael was curled next to her with his head resting on her lap while she cleaned and disinfected the cuts on his face. He was frustrated that he'd scratched the skin to the point of bleeding, because he worked so hard to control that impulse. Not since Athens had something riled him this much. It helped that Baba knew about that day. He didn't know why it helped, but it did. He decided he should try to tell Mama before he shipped out again, because she deserved to know the truth. If nothing else, she'd at least know how to pray. He always paused to listen when she prayed for him.

It was ironic that Zoë had woken up just as the Doc was kicking everyone out to eat and rest. They were all at the space port now to see off Jamie, Cole, and Genny. Michael was glad he'd stayed behind, because it was quieter here with Zoë. It didn't matter that she couldn't talk because, even before this, she spoke mostly with facial expressions and body language, and Michael could always assume that she hadn't said a word out loud. It was easy to see what was on her mind, because she didn't dwell on things trying to find the perfect way to verbalize them. She said things exactly once with expressions that spoke more than a thousand words could.

Michael hissed as she tapped one of the cuts behind his ear. Her fingers were getting more dexterous as her system metabolized the drugs in her system, and she could sign most of her letters recognizably, but every now and then, the muscles would spasm. She held her hand, waiting for the spasm to subside, and then, very tenderly, she kissed her finger tips and caressed over the scratches on his neck. It felt like a cool mist on Michael's skin, and he liked to imagine that his sister had special healing powers to make the cuts vanish. When she tickled the peach fuzz shadow on his jaw and he smiled lightheartedly.

"Didn't used to grow this fast," Michael chuckled, taking her hand and grating her palm against the stubble. These days, he had to shave twice a day if he wanted to look respectable at meals. "I guess when you left home, it didn't grow at all."

He craned his neck to look up at her and she smiled lovingly, pinching his chin as if to suggest he grow a goatee. She could always make him smile from the heart with her silly ideas. Using the backs of her knuckles, she uncurled his fingers and examined the scrapes he'd acquired when he tried to beat a hole through the bricks earlier. She kissed the bruises first, like he was a child and that could make everything better, then she dabbed a fresh rag with antiseptic and started cleaning. It wasn't like there was much else they could do with their time.

"You'll like Deadwood," Michael said, adjusting his position so he could lie down without her having to pull his arm at a weird angle. It was difficult because there was exactly one position she could sit comfortably in, and it took up most of the bed.

"It's a good place to recover," Michael continued. "Baba has a nice house by the creek, and there's something to be said for terra firma as far as keeping your stomach settled when you're on the happy drugs."

He thought about their house on Deadwood, and all the times he'd sat with his father in the garage, maintaining Uncle Jayne's guns. He thought about the school he and Cole had gone to and all the fights he'd gotten into before the other kids spread the word that no one messed with Cole's little brother. Michael never quite figured out how Cole got his reputation, but everyone was scared to cross him. Even after Cole graduated and left, no one bothered Michael, because they thought Cole would come back to get them. Michael had tried to talk his parents into home schooling again because fifty high-schoolers in one classroom was a lot to handle, but Baba always wanted him to find a way to deal with a 'verse that didn't know about him. He couldn't spend the rest of his life pressing his ear to his father's heart whenever he needed a boost of strength.

"Did you tell Baba about Athens?" Michael asked timidly. He looked back at Zoë, but she shook her head, and then gave him the 'I told you so' look. She'd warned him that Baba could find out anything if he put his mind to it. She'd told Michael to tell a long time ago.

"He knows now. He knows what I did," Michael whispered guiltily. Michael told Zoë everything about his abilities – about what he could and could not do, what he was learning, and what he was afraid to learn. Part of her journey was seeking out other readers, warning them of dangers, and giving them those meds that helped them not die when the tsunamis hit. She never wrote any of it down, because in the wrong hands, it was simply too dangerous, and she never told the ones she met about Michael.

"Have you ever met anyone who can do what I do?" Michael asked hesitantly.

Zoë's eyes crinkled in sadness and she cradled his cheek with her hand, then she shook her head again. Michael knew he could do more than Aunt River, but couldn't really handle the thought that he was so uniquely powerful. He always feared that one day, he'd become a power-crazed monster, like the Frankenstein man that killed all those readers and possessed Aunt River. Even today, Baba was just trying to ask him about Athens and Michael had lost control. He could have killed him. What was strange was that his father knew exactly what he'd tried to do, and didn't hold it against him.

Zoë touched the corners of Michael's eyes, catching the tear before it could fall.

"Be good," she whispered hoarsely.

Michael looked away. "That's not really an option in my line of work."

Zoë shook his shoulders and gave him a firm look to emphasize her directive, but she didn't try to speak again. She'd said all she wanted to on the matter. When their eyes met again, and she was sure that her message had been delivered, Zoë turned her attention back to Michael's hands, and he realized that she was filing away at his fingernails, smoothing the edges so he wouldn't break skin when he scratched. Michael's technique for keeping his nails short involved semi-frequent nail biting, but Zoë had a pink Emory board, and the sight of it made Michael bust out laughing.

"Are you giving me a manicure?!" he laughed incredulously.

She shrugged one shoulder, giving him that mischievous dead-pan face that only made him laugh harder.

*~*

Jayne hefted Emily in his arms, adjusting his grip as he walked next to Mal on the way back to the hotel. Jamie's transport back to Osiris had left two hours late and Emily had fallen asleep while they were waiting at the space port. Jayne had lifted Emily off of Jamie's lap and that was as close as he'd gotten to giving the boy a hug. In truth, he was glad to give Jamie the excuse. As much as he wanted to bowl the kid over and wish him luck the way Cole had done, Jamie couldn't handle that kind of rough-housing from Jayne at the moment. They didn't shake hands. Jamie couldn't even muster the words 'it was good seeing you,' which was something he always said if he meant it. He just said 'bye.' For the hurt he'd caused that kid, Jayne figured it was more than he deserved.

Mal paused, waiting for Jayne to catch up. Emily was slowing him down, but he didn't want to wake her. Jayne couldn't carry her like a kid anymore, since she was getting so long-legged. It was amazing to think – what would've happened if he'd shot Mal that day they'd met instead of switching sides? He and Mal had walked through hell, heaven, and all the roads in between together. They'd gone from enemies each looking to live one more day, to crew, to friends. They'd seen each other become fathers and then husbands. Mal had three grown kids making their way out there in the 'verse, and Jayne had his own little woman resting in his arms. Where once his goal was to make good sport of his life, now he tried to make his life good. Mal could've killed him a dozen times over, and Jayne had given him more than enough reasons too. Mal could have ditched him, left him dirt side, or left him in that bug house. But Mal never gave up on him; he'd pegged Jayne's as a life worth fighting for. That was how they all knew Mal was crazy.

"I've been hearing things," Mal said, when Jayne had caught up to him. "Seems the ladies are conspiring to buy a space ship. Don't know what they're going to use it for, besides living in space."

Jayne looked to the sky, remembering how freeing it felt to leave a world of his own accord and not wait for some transport to match his schedule. He hadn't been to Persephone in awhile, but they had the best interactive target practice arena and he wanted to take Emily. "I am gettin' a little land crazy."

"There's talk of a job."

"I heard that too," Jayne said with a nod. He might be ready to pick up a gun again, but he was in no condition to take up work. He was so out of shape, he'd probably be sore tomorrow just from carrying Emily.

"I have this image of myself hobbling to a job with an old hickory cane and beatin' people senseless with it. It's funny as hell. I laugh every time." Mal trailed off, chuckling quietly. "See? See how I'm laughing?"

"The kids can take care of it," Jayne agreed, dismissing the notion of joining the heist.

Mal nodded, but he seemed disappointed. "I never expected to live this long," he confessed. "I kinda resent the notion that I'll die of old age."

Jayne looked at Mal, startled that anyone could reflect his own sentiments so well, and speak those truths so plainly. He thought of Sky again, and how they had dared to dream they'd live a long life together and see their daughter grown.

"Sky always said that when we were too old to fight, we should get a gun shop," Jayne said, fighting to keep his voice steady. Talking about Sky was getting easier, but he felt guilty doing it – like he was letting go of the most precious thing he'd ever been given. But he also felt regret for neglecting so fiercely all the other bits of precious that blessed his life. There were those, like Jamie, that would be damn near impossible to reclaim, and wouldn't have been lost at all if he'd come to his senses three years ago.

Jayne chewed his lip and thought about that gun shop – about that dream that he didn't necessarily have to lose. He didn't figure he'd be wresting his guns from Michael anytime soon, and he hoped he'd have opportunity to bestow the legends of each weapon along with the parts. Every gun had a history. So did every man. Jayne had never figured he'd run across so many people worth knowing.

"Sky had a good eye for matching men and arms," Jayne said, picturing the time they'd gone into a gun shop and she kept talking to the customers like she owned the place. "She could tell what would fit in a body's hand, and what he could handle. She said we'd get to see everything new coming in, and try everything out at least once for the sake of market research… That kind of trade would do well on a boat."

Jayne trailed off and looked at his old friend, seeing in Mal's eyes that wistful peace he'd always gotten when he thought about Serenity and freedom.

"Is that something you want to do?" Mal asked cautiously, not daring to step into the dream if it wasn't an invitation.

Jayne smiled adventurously and turned his eyes to the path ahead. "It beats sitting on a swing doing nothing."

*~*

~FIN~


End file.
